


30 Day OTP challenges - SFW and NSFW versions

by Molly Bod (Strudelmugel)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 59,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Molly%20Bod
Summary: A collection of stories I wrote for two 30 day OTP challanges last year. Various pairings.





	1. MonaCy - Holding hands

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I might as well archive these here too. Might use this pseud for my shorter fics too tbh.
> 
> Stelios - Cyprus  
> Monique - Monaco

Every moment she glanced away was usually spent furiously wiping his hand on his shirt.   
Stelios couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous on a date, but never before had he had the honour to go out with what was clearly perfection in human form. Right next to him was the woman he’d dreamt about for months, the not only dazzlingly glamorous but charmingly delightful Monique, the co-worker whom he had long believed was too beautiful and intelligent for a pleb like him.   
It had been a dare. His idiot friend Hassan over in the next office had dared him to ask her out because he was just so tired of hearing Stelios moping around, gushing about how she was way out of his league and he would never have a chance with her. So Hassan had dared him. Double triple dog dared him to ask her out. Stelios couldn’t back out of that one now, so, when she was sat outside the office building eating her packed lunch, he steeled himself and asked her what she was doing on Friday, and if she wanted to walk along the promenade with him for a few hours.  
Before Monique even had a chance to reply, he was gone. His nerves gave in and he just ran back inside to sulk off his embarrassment and the adrenaline that was making it impossible to focus on his work. He’d messed up so bad and now he could never even be in the same room as Monique, let alone speak another word to her.  
Why was he such an idiot?  
Hassan probably could’ve provided an answer to that in jest, but he’d honestly not been in the mood to see anyone then.  
But, to his surprise, there was a sharp knock on the door, and Monique had strode in before he could even register she was there. A few, short, quick words, and she had planned a meeting time, where they would meet- outside the arcade- even the itinerary for the evening.  
Stelios was trying his hardest to stick to said itinerary, but he was never one for the rules, tending to wander around on his own aimlessly, however, Monique had a plan. He, for one, didn’t mind letting her take the lead; it meant he could follow like a lovestruck little puppy, and actually have an eventful, fun evening. And he’d not ended up in an unfamiliar part of town. Which had happened on numerous occasions and often ended in him getting mugged.  
They’d already spent an hour playing games in the arcade, his pride slightly wounded when he failed to win her a soft cat toy in the claw machine. She did win him a keyring in the 2p machine though, which he was determined to treasure.  
The promenade was packed with couples and families, night illuminated by the bright lights of the attractions, everything so noisy he could barely hear the lap of the waves in the distance, the sea inky black save for the shimmers of waves breaking against the shore. Maybe later, when the world was quieter and they were drunker, they could take a paddle in the shallows, laughing and joking and hopefully not being bothered by the stray from the plan.  
Right now, though, they were slowly making their way over to this one restaurant Monique had picked out, supposedly for their fantastic food. Stelios gulped at the thought of forking out on such a high-class meal- that job didn’t pay as much as he’d like and unlike Monique he’d never thought to try investing his wages in anything but food and rent- but he would grin and bear it, because his feelings were just so strong. They’d been driving him mad for months. And sure, the nerves and adrenaline he was feeling now could be described as being just as bad, but he didn’t care.  
“I know what you’re doing, by the way,” Monique drawled, glancing up at him and smiling mischievously.  
“Oh?” he replied, a little nervous. She didn’t think he was just dating her for sexual reasons, did she? He was coming off as a bit of a creep though, he decided.  
“Why yes,” the smile grew, “there’s no need to be afraid. I won’t bite.” And she took his hand as he made to wipe it on his side once more, “come on, I want to hold your hand properly.”


	2. HuttMol - Cuddling Somewhere

It wasn’t the smartest place to lay down and sleep, nor the most comfortable, but that was where they ended up anyway, bodies warm and sweaty from an exhausting day of work. The sun was setting at long last, giving them an extra fraction of cooling relief on top of the Weigela bush they were hiding under. Neither cared about the dirt on their clothes and tangled in their hair and neither did the close proximity become a source of embarrassment- they were too tired to care that they were two friends having a rather intimate snuggle. Just two bros. Gardening bros.

Bros who could never admit they liked each other, purely out of their own stubbornness. Their rivalry- no matter how friendly- prevented them from wanting to put themselves in such a position of vulnerability as to actually confess, lay down their feelings and heart out before the other. Being together was a dream for them, but that was all it could be. Molossia and Hutt River were proud, had fronts and images to consider, and reputations to keep up. They had both trained themselves to keep feelings such as these deep inside and never tell a soul. It was just how they’d grown to be.

But secretly and separately, they both agreed this would do for the time being, together but apart, wondering if this was what it would be like to have the other as their own. Molossia made sure to cherish the smell of Hutt River’s aftershave, whilst Hutt delighted in how surprisingly soft Molossia was, perfect for cuddling like this. Hutt’s hair was amazingly soft, and Molly was a rather gentle, docile sleeper.

The line between awake and asleep blurred to the point that, in their own little world, they did not notice Wy- and her camera- stumbling across them and alerting the other micronations of this adorable find with the push of a button.


	3. OzNZ - Gaming/Watching a movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: offensive humour [yes, I picked that game for this prompt].
> 
> Hunapo- New Zealand
> 
> Logan- Australia
> 
> Oscar- Hutt River
> 
> Charlie- Wy

Hunapo glared at him from across the table.

Logan just threw them a haughty grin as he dealt the cards, and, between them, his little brother Oscar just groaned in despair. The three were slouched around a coffee table, sitting on the fluffy carpet Oscar had bought for the sitting room a few months ago, a plush, pretentiously fancy affair Hunapo knew Logan detested and would never have bought for himself, especially not at that price. Even he had to admit it was comfy though.  
And beside Logan was a little black box. An inconspicuous box that Hunapo hadn’t noticed sitting amongst the other board games on that little shelf in the TV unit. A fairly innocent box, had it not been emblazoned with the words ‘Cards Against Humanity: a party game for horrible people’ in bold white. They should’ve known, with Logan, that a games night could never be a clean, wholesome evening of family fun. They should’ve known the moment Logan mentioned that Charlie, his little sister, was already asleep in her room and not allowed to play for her own good.  
But, whatever this game was, Hunapo wanted to beat Logan at it. Even if that meant being a ‘horrible person’.  
They always got like this- Logan and Hunapo- fiercely competitive in every aspect of their lives from sports to wits to who was a better parent, or step-parent in Hunapo’s case. They had to one-up each other over everything. It was just how they were and had been since they’d met, though Hunapo had presumed it would mellow out after they started dating. Apparently not. But they did get along and that was all that mattered, and the competition gave their relationship extra spice, which was nice.  
“This game is horrible,” Oscar exclaimed, having scooped up his cards and was now staring at them with a hand over his open mouth. “Logie what the hell did you buy?”  
“A good time.”  
Interest piqued, Hunapo gathered their own hand and had a gander.  
 _What the actual fuck, Logan?_  
How was this ever allowed to be made? Who thought this game was a good idea? A complete fucking legend, most likely.  
“Oh Christ bro,” they squeaked, “I’m loving this already! Where did you find this game?”  
“The internet,” Logan replied, “there’s so much cool shit on there I didn’t even know.”  
“Logan has just discovered internet shopping. He also bought a porcelain duck, a shower gel dispenser shaped like a nose, and bandages painted like bacon strips,” Oscar despaired.  
“Oh that’s what that thing in your shower is,” Hunapo pulled a face, “I didn’t want to ask.”  
“So do you know how to play?” asked Logan, glancing between the other two.  
“No.”  
“It’s simple.” He placed a deck of black cards on the coffee table between them all, “we take turns reading out a black card, which’ll have a blank in the sentence, or be a question, and the other two have to either fill in the blank or answer the question with their white cards. Easy, right? Oh, and it has to be anonymous so place your cards face down on the table. I’ll go first.” He picked up the first black card, gave a snort, and began reading with a booming voice. “‘Australia: where even’ blank ‘can kill you’.”  
“Easy.” Hunapo slapped a card on the table within seconds, Oscar soon following.  
“You two were quick, not sure if that’s a good thing;” Logan picked them up, trying his best not to look. “Australia: where even pingers can kill you. Okay. Australia: where even all four prongs of an echidna’s penis can kill you, fucking hell! That wins who played it?”  
“Fuck’s sake!” cried Hunapo, “Oscar since when were you so disgusting?” The boy could only shrug.  
“Whose turn is it now?” he asked instead.  
“Yours, I think,” replied Logan, and Hunapo buried their nose in their cards immediately.  
“Okay,” Oscar began, “‘Oi! Show us’ blank.”  
The teen jumped at the speed and fury at which the two adults slapped their cards into the table.  
“Well then,” his voice cracked as he spoke, “let’s see what you got, shall we? ‘Oi! Show us all kinds of skin cancer’. Wow. And ‘Oi, show us Tony Abbott in budgie smugglers’. Eww I didn’t need that image.”  
“Me neither,” groaned Logan, face scrunched up in disgust, “guess you win, Davies.”  
“Yes!” Hunapo punched the air and snatched the black card off of Oscar, “take that, Cooper!”  
Logan raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”  
“But imagine Tony Abbott in budgie smug-”  
“Shut up!”  
And they were off. For nearly an hour, Logan and Hunapo competed to see who was the biggest human dumpster of moral bankruptcy. Oscar had long left them to it, excusing himself with the face of a dog owner who had just come home to find their beloved pooch had shat on their new expensive sofa.  
“‘What should harden the fuck up’?” asked Hunapo, placing the black card on the coffee table.  
“You,” mumbled Logan, taking a swig from his fifth beer can.  
“Or ‘a four-by-four full of dead backpackers’,” Hunapo chirped, slapping the card on the table.  
“Well I was gonna play ‘seppos’, so you win.”  
“Oh excellent,” Hunapo beamed as they scooped up their winning black card and drew another white one. “So that’s ten to me and eight to you.”  
“Fuck you. How am I losing at a game where you be offensive?”  
“Because you’re just offensive. I’m apparently completely sick.”  
“Fair enough. Now, tell me, ‘what broke up the original Wiggles’?”  
“’The Great Emu War’,” Hunapo slapped the card down with a laugh, “oh my I remember you telling me about that.”  
“’Doing a Harold Holt’; give me that point.”  
Hunapo burst out laughing, “you can take it. Now, let’s see. ‘Australians have voted to replace the Union Jack with an image of’ blank ‘on the national flag.’”  
“Oh fuck!” Logan could hardly read his card through his laughter, “oh no why is this a thing? ‘Harold Holt’s bloated corpse’.”  
“How many Harold Holt cards do you have? Eh, doesn’t beat ‘Queen Elizabeth’s immaculate anus’ though.”  
“Yes it fucking does, but holy fuck!”  
“I actually don’t know which is better.”  
“How about mine?”  
Hunapo raised an eyebrow, “how about double or nothing?”  
“Fine, ‘chundering into a kangaroo’s pouch’. I’d happily see that on the Australian flag.”  
“How about ‘a stingray barb through the chest’?”  
Neither spoke for a full minute.  
“Fucking hell,” muttered Logan.  
“Think we should stop now?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Are we gonna play again sometime?”  
“Hell yeah.”


	4. SebWy - On a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salvatorio- Seborga
> 
> Charlotte- Wy
> 
> Oscar- Hutt River
> 
> Mike- Molossia
> 
> Other characters mentioned. Inspired by the music of Il Volo. Probably going to be my longest story for this, and bloody hell this was a bastard to write because of it.

This had not been how he’d intended to spend the evening.

Salvatorio Horatio Vargas had made plans, grand plans involving a night he’d yearned for for months. These plans had been weeks in the making, taken up hours of his time. Tonight was the night he went to the opera for the first time, by himself as a grown man, and then onto a fancy restaurant for whatever food his heart and wallet desired- save for seafood, of course. He still didn’t understand the appeal of all things ocean.

Salvatorio had been saving up every spare penny for this night, and was ready to go to town, maybe hit some high-end shops before the performance. He needed a new watch, after all.

It wasn’t often he got to splash out like this, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous of his two best friends. Oscar, at his young age, had already started his own business and was making thousands, spending a large chunk of his money on clothes, cologne, male jewellery and a car. A damn car? And a Rolls Royce of all things, at his age. Then there was Mike, from a reasonably well-off family, able to afford whatever games, science nonsense and model trains his heart desired. Not the most classy of people, but nice enough to spend time with.

Then there was Sal.

Not that he resented his friends at all, oh no! He would never reduce himself to such petty feelings. He was far more civilised than that. And not to mention, jealousy did not mix well with Salvatorio.

But he did wish his life was more than that of a dishwasher for a restaurant a cousin of his grandpa owned, whatever said life would be. Maybe a fashion designer? A top-class chef? Hell, even a toyboy to a rich old lady would be a preferable life choice than dirtying his hands with the remains of other people’s food, watching them wrinkle in soapy water and nearly breaking his back stooped over a sink.

So it was nice to get a taste of the future he wanted, to motivate him to settle for nothing less than perfection in life, and to actually motivate him to try his hardest to make it a reality.

The evening air was cool and crisp, like the footsteps from his new shiny black shoes, sun setting somewhere behind the buildings around him, throwing the sky into a sea of soft pink and orange, dotted with cuddly clouds. Sal whistled as he walked, a spring in his step and his best suit on his back: the black tux that his brothers said made him look like a waiter, not that he cared for their jesting.

It would’ve been nice if they’d not been too busy to join him though, he supposed, but then again, he was a grown up boy now and could have an evening out by himself. Plus, it meant no older brothers ready to embarrass him at any minute. Who knew whom he could meet tonight? A rich businessman looking for fresh new talent to be his apprentice? The most beautiful girl in the world?

Just has he rounded a corner with a skip, his spirits were dampened by the sound of ugly sobbing.

Glancing around, he soon spotted the source of the crying: little Charlotte Manya Cooper, Oscar’s younger sister and his long time crush.

She was wearing a little red short-jumpsuit, clearly something her brother had picked out for her, and her hair was tied up tight in a bun, curls neatly organised by pins. He’d never seen her looking like this before, mature and elegant, from her diamond necklace to her dark silk gloves. And her makeup. Sal had honestly never seen her in makeup before. Mud? Yes. Paint? Near constant. But this was something else.

Of course, her mascara and eyeliner were now smeared across her face, along with shining tears and he couldn’t tell if her blotchy cheeks were an attempt at blusher or from her lonely weeping.

There was no hesitation; Sal broke into a run the moment he saw her.

“Miss Charlie!” he cried, collapsing next to her on the little stone steps leading to a fountain in the middle of the square. It was a beautiful place, where many a couple came to relax and have a romantic hour or so, throwing spare change into the fountain to make wishes of a long and healthy relationship, a secret hope for the relationship’s end, or even more money. Somewhat counter-productive when one spent their time throwing their money into a fountain. So far the only people he knew to actually profit from those wishes were the Oxenstjärna brothers, Peter and Lars, who would take off their shoes and socks when everyone was gone, wade into the fountain’s basin and collect the coins.

“Oh, Sal, I didn’t see you. What are you doing here?” Charlie could barely talk through her sobs, back and shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands. He could see the red nail varnish on her bitten fingernails was already chipped and chewed.

“What happened?” Sal asked, hands raised and unsure if he should place them on her shoulders.

“What do you think happened? I got stood up.” She couldn’t look at him as she said that. “Remember that guy in my class, right? The one I asked out last week. I thought he liked me, I mean, he didn’t turn me down. Did I do something wrong?” Charlie was growing more hysterical as she talked, barely audible by the end of it.

Of course! How could Sal have forgotten the one thing that had dampened his mood this past week? He was right when he said jealousy wasn’t a good emotion on him. Like the colour yellow, he simply couldn’t wear such a thing.

He’d spent a large part of his time in his room, silently seething and barely speaking to his family, just to get his anger out. He’d loved Charlotte for years, and whilst he was happy for her, he still couldn’t help the jealousy.

But now?

“Maybe he’s running late?” Sal tried, suppressing his rising anger. Charlie and her happiness was the only thing that mattered right now.

“An hour late?” whimpered Charlotte.

_Oh._

Normal for himself and his family, perhaps, but no there was no other explanation here. “So he… didn’t show up,” muttered Sal. How could he? Salvatorio would’ve given anything to have been in his position, to make Charlie smile, laugh, feel even more loved than she was. Did he not know what he had done? What he had left? Had caused? Clearly not.

What was wrong with people these days?

“No, and now I feel… I feel like such an idiot.” Sal pulled her into a tight embrace, loving her warmth but hating the tiny, pitiful whimpers of what was once a confident, boisterous girl, the way she trembled as she hiccupped, and how her shoulders shook against his chest and arms. The pins that were holding back her tide of hair were failing now, coffee curls escaping to trail down her tan shoulders.

He’d always loved her shoulders the most, with their eggshell scattering of freckles. Sal often had to fight the urge to run his hands over them, but now really wasn’t the time, once again. Charlie had it bad enough.

“You’re not an idiot,” he soothed, “he’s the idiot here, to miss out on spending an evening with a beautiful young lady.”

“I’m not after your flattery,” Charlie told him with a stony expression.

“I was not trying to shower you in flattery, only honest thoughts.”

“What a charmer you are, Sal.”

“Thank you, Miss Charlotte.”

That got her to laugh, at least. Or it could’ve been a hiccup.

“Look, I’ll just call my brother and ask him to pick me up. You look like you have somewhere to be. I didn’t know you got a waiting job. Congrats mate.”

 _Oh right, the opera,_ Sal thought with a twinge. If he had an extra ticket, he’d have brought Charlie along, but he didn’t so he couldn’t.

This was a once-in-a-very-long-time opportunity, and not one he was keen to miss. If it had been anyone else- up to and including his brothers- he would have made his excuses and been on his way, but Sal was of the opinion that Charlie was someone a bit more special. And she never made fun of him the way his brothers did. She knew what it was like to be the youngest, the one that was pampered but pushed around, always the baby.

“Oh no,” he said, mouth on autopilot, “I was just going for a nice walk in the park before dinner. Care to join me?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie gave a shrug, “I kinda just wanna go home and eat leftovers now. And maybe cry some more.”

“Come on, that’s no way to spend a whole evening; there’ll be time for that later,” Sal elbowed her ever so gently in the stomach, “come have some fun with me. It’ll take your mind off that… horrible person for a few hours.” Even now, when anger and disappointment and hope surged through his body, he couldn’t bring himself to swear in front of a lady, or anyone for that matter.

“I don’t know…”

“My treat.”

“Well…” Charlie shrugged in a gesture he took to be an attempt at grace. “I suppose a few hours wouldn’t hurt.”

…

The restaurant looked beautiful, of course. Well it should for that price. Sweet music tinkled over from a piano in the corner, and Charlotte soon lost herself in the detailed carvings joining ceiling to wall and the glass chandeliers hanging above couples and families, eating food so fancy even her brother would struggle to identify it, in such miniscule portions she feared it wouldn’t even be enough for even her tiny stomach.

“My good sir,” Sal purred to the maître de, resting an elbow on his little desk, “you don’t suppose an extra seat could be added to my table for my charming lady friend here?”

The maître de looked Charlotte up and down, and she squirmed, fully aware of how she looked with her frizzy hair and running makeup. He didn’t look too keen on letting her in, and she couldn’t blame him really.

“Oh you cannot let such a beautiful young lady be turned out into the cold, now could you?”

Sal patted the maître de’s jacket pocket discreetly, and Charlie pretended not to notice. And that was that. The pair were led past other diners, wondering why a tearful girl in red was in the company of a young waiter, and deciding that- though it was most curious- it wasn’t of any importance to them.

“Here you are sir, madam.” Once alone, Sal pulled out Charlie’s seat for her, but she politely declined.

“I have to find a bathroom,” she explained, “you know, to sort myself out.”

“Oh, of course!” Sal watched her go with a dreamy expression. Okay, he had to admit spending time with her had been far more enjoyable than the opera. Charlie had character, and once he’d cheered her up and she’d almost forgotten about her absent date, she laughed and joked alongside him as they ambled through the park, heeled shoes in her hand as she skipped through grass and flowers, Sal following like a puppy. Charlie, too, admitted spending the evening with him had been better than her original plans: spud-u-like and the cinema. Did that boy of hers have no class? Not that he was her boy anymore. Oh he’d blown that chance. Cooper’s didn’t take too kindly to betrayal and he’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again.

Tonight was certainly giving him a clear image of the life he wanted though: one with Charlie. One where he was rich and successful and could buy her whatever she wanted, even a whole art studio. Overlooking the river. A top floor spacious place with ceiling-to-floor windows. She’d love it! It would be close to their flat so she wouldn’t have to stress herself out getting the bus in rush hour.

Their flat would be spacious too, and designed by her so he tried not to think about it too much. Maybe with a balcony where they could grow boxes of flowers together, and a nice traditional kitchen full of herbs and vegetables for him to cook with. Maybe they could get a cat too.

Sal groaned to himself as he realised his thoughts were getting out of hand. And he probably shouldn’t mention any of that to Charlie with, because no good would come from it and she’d just think he was a creep.

Still, all that mattered now was that he was the best date she could hope for, so that all the heartache before would barely be a memory to her.


	5. EstUkr - Kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katya - Ukraine

Eduard really didn’t like his glasses, if he was going to be honest here.

  
Yes, he enjoyed how smart they made him look, classy and sophisticated with a head full of answers to the big questions, and some of the smaller ones. But mostly? They were awkward and clunky and a complete hindrance on his life. He couldn’t so much as have a calming cup of coffee without the drink foaming up his glasses; if they broke he was completely helpless; and sometimes at night when he’d forget he was wearing them, he’d collapse into bed and the things would dig into his skull in the few seconds it took to register that he was a hopeless scatterbrain. They would fall off when he least needed them to, they were constantly falling apart faster than he could repair them and the damn things were always dirty. So incredibly dirty.

  
And now here they were, ruining his life yet again.

  
But Katya didn’t seem to care; she was wonderful like that. The portly woman just gave a laugh, one that he assumed was an attempt at coyness, but came out louder than intended, awkward, and clunky. Katya was absolutely perfect.

  
“Oh come on,” she joked, “I don’t know why you’re so upset about this. It’s only a little thing.” 

  
“I am not upset,” replied Eduard in a way Katya knew meant he was very upset indeed. She could always tell when something was bothering him, no matter how hard he tried to keep it hidden, deep down inside of him. He wasn’t one for emotion, she knew, and she accepted him for that, but if he was keeping something that was truly bothering him from her, well, she was determined to know and help.

  
“Well I am not upset, and it was  _my_  eye!”

  
Eduard couldn’t bring himself to look at the tiny cut above her left eyebrow, made by the corner of his stupid, stupid glasses. He’d been trying to be smooth too, leaning in for a little peck on the cheek and gone again before he’d had time to be embarrassed.

  
But no, he’d more or less headbutted her and now she was bleeding.

  
“I’m sorry,” he tried again, though she’d already accepted his apology five times now. “I was just…” Trying to be smooth? She didn’t need to know that.

  
“Oh I know what you were doing.” Katya stared at him, eyes dissecting him and he couldn’t turn away now.

  
“You do?”

  
Katya hummed as she leaned forward, taking off his glasses and planting her full lips on his considerably thinner ones, just for a moment, enough for his mouth to feel numb when she pulled away. Eduard couldn’t speak for a full minute afterwards.

  
“Oh, by the way,” Katya added, “I love your little glasses.”


	6. SeyPrus - Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angie- Seychelles
> 
> Stelios- Cyprus
> 
> Notes: When I got these two for this prompt I knew I would have a lot of fun writing this :D

After a long day at work selling seaside crafts and jewellery, this was not what Angie expected to come home to, and she had no idea if she should be amused or not.

Amused. Very amused, she concluded in an instant.

She didn’t even know her boyfriend could turn such a shade of maroon as the deep flush across his cheeks, and she didn’t blame him. And he hadn’t even noticed she was here yet… She did want to know why he was wearing her little blue dress though.

The thing barely fit Stelios’ considerably larger body, and he’d been unable to zip it up at the back, exposing some rather fine, toned muscle, and the lacy back strap of her bra. He’d barely managed to fit the neckline over the empty bra and around his actual neckline, but she did admire the bow in his one long lock of hair, big feet spilling out of her shoes and the seashell necklace draped over his shoulders. He’d really put in the effort, but why?

Angie just hoped he wasn’t wearing her knickers too.

“Darling?” she began, “what on earth are you doing?”

Stelios jumped nearly a foot in the air at her voice, letting out the manliest of high-pitched shrieks and breaking a heel on the landing. Great.

“Angie,” he squeaked, “what are you doing home so early?”

“This is when I usually get home,” she replied flatly, “been busy, then? Job searching going well?”

“The internet was down,” muttered Stelios, refusing to look at her.

“So you… put on my clothes?”

Her boyfriend, not for the first time in their relationship, gave a pout. “Well you wear my shirts all the time.” Not that he clearly minded her walking around in nothing but his giant t-shirts in the mornings as she got out of bed to pour herself some juice, no makeup, hair frizzy, just Angie looking exceedingly cute. The sight made Stelios’ heart throb, she knew.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Angie wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss the matter further, “now, I have to ask, would you object to a photo shoot?”

“With every bone in my body.”


	7. HuttMol - In Cosplay

“You’re damn lucky I love you, Cooper.”

Mike glared at himself in the mirror, at the stupid costume he’d only worn because his boyfriend had so lovingly made it from scratch, down to the design. He knew he should’ve never introduced Oscar to Undertale, as much as he adored the game and had been keen to share it with everyone he loved or at least tolerated after playing every run he knew existed. His brothers had enjoyed it, his friends had enjoyed it, and Oscar had become absolutely obsessed with the game.

Not that Mike was any better, of course. After all, they’d both bought each other Undertale figurines for Christmas and even sported a pair of matching ‘cool dude’ t shirts, but this was a whole new level of nerdy.

Good thing Mike was a big nerd deep down or he might be protesting a little harder.

“But the Mad Dummy suits you and your personality so much,” said boyfriend purred as he struggled to get his sister to stop wiggling for five minutes so he could put on her jumper. Her homemade, knitted jumper. And to think, a year ago Cooper didn’t even know what cosplay was.

Charlie, the pair had decided, made an adorable little Frisk, and was happily toddling around in her shorts and boots, but the five year old was proving unwilling to put on the striped jumper that defined her lookalike, and it was a good thing her hair had been cut into a bob a few weeks ago because putting a wig on the kid would’ve been pure torture.

Oscar, of course, looked incredible as Mettaton, everything perfect down to his lipstick and winged eyeliner. His costume was the results of months of planning and dedication, painstakingly stitching and gluing each little bit and bob, treating his wig, practicing his makeup for hours on end.

Mike, on the other hand, thought he looked like an idiot.

A week or so after finishing the game, Oscar began designing robot forms for Napstablook and the Mad Dummy, for fun, and once he started planning his cosplay, had ever so sweetly asked if Mike would help his design come to life. It would be worthwhile, he’d said, that he’d be ever so happy and Mike would look so delightful.

Mike just thought he looked like an idiot. It wasn’t that the design was bad- Oscar certainly knew his stuff when it came to making clothes- but he wasn’t the most… flattering of people to model clothes on.

The massive frown on his face was in-character though, he supposed.

The design was almost identical to Mettaton’s, save for the deep orange to replace the pink, and a bright red soul guarded by a jagged belt. The boots, too, though still knee-high, were somewhat more practical than heels, big rugged things that reminded him of hikes through desert or outback. Oscar had said his own hair was fine for the design though, and that he didn’t need a wig.

“I think you look very smart,” Oscar sniffed, having finally caught Charlie and was now trying to squeeze the neck of her jumper over her head.

“I think I look like an idiot.” Mike gave a huff and crossed his arms.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, almost letting Charlie go. “Excuse me?”

Mike blanched. “Wait, no, I meant I look stupid in anything. The actual costume is great though! You’re really talented, baebutt.”

Oscar flinched at the nickname, and didn’t look all that relieved at the comment.

“I think you look dashing,” he muttered.

“Well you just look hot,” Mike replied with matched embarrassment as Charlie, now jumper-ed, had her ears quickly covered by her brother.

“Why thank you,” he squeaked, “I must say, we make a charming duo. Ready to hit the convention?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”


	8. RoFin - Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes- Man I need to do more for this pairing, though I feel this fic doesn’t really do their compatibility justice.
> 
> Alin- Romania

“I can’t believe this is a real shop,” Alin muttered as his boyfriend dragged him inside the tiniest dwelling he’d ever seen, squashed between similar minute shops and a little pub. In fact, the place was so small the ground floor was just a set of stairs and another doorway leading to another street. Was the shop in another dimension? He was a very open-minded man in that sense, so wouldn’t question the possibility too deeply. **  
**

“But of course,” Tino chirped, “the Moomins are a lovable childhood memory for so many people, including myself.”

“Childhood, adolescence, adulthood.” Alin smiled at him. Tino didn’t give a single solitary fuck about what people thought of him, just like Alin, which was why neither cared if people stared when two grown adults- one stout and short with the ugliest Christmas jumper, the other tall, lanky and looking like a reject from Blood on the Dance Floor- squeezed up the thin wooden steps with a fair bit of difficulty.

“This was a great shop to visit,” Alin commented, looking around the empty hallway with its murals of the Moomin characters themselves. Tino shook his head.

“Through here,” he almost sang, pulling Alin through a little doorway to the most cramped room the man had ever set foot in, every inch of the place covered in anything Moomin, from clothes to cutlery to giant cuddly toys of Moomintroll himself.

Tino’s wider form was having trouble navigating the place more so than Alin’s matchstick one, though neither were helped by the fact that the place was jam-packed with tourists with little to no sense of personal space. He just hoped nothing breakable was knocked to the floor, because the prices made him want to weep.

Thank goodness Tino was quite well off, or he’d probably be crying on Alin’s shoulder by now.

That being said…

“Don’t go overboard,” he warned.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Tino replied innocently. If innocent was spelt like ‘satan’. In fact, as he was speaking, his hand reached for a t shirt with Little My sitting on a log.  _Okay, not too bad so far_ , Alin reasoned before Tino dashed off in a whirlwind of overexcitement and a very loose wallet.

“You don’t need baubles,” Alin despaired, “Christmas isn’t for four whole months.”

“I think you mean ‘oh no, Christmas is only four months away’,” Tino replied with a worried look. “I have only done a fraction of my shopping, and not even started making the Christmas pudding. Ugh I’m so behind…”

“You’re fanatical.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Tino scolded, “so you can drag me to every astrology shop in Soho but the moment I want to talk about Christmas it’s too much?”

There was a pause before Alin replied. “You said they smelt nice. You even bought incense.”

“Oh they were absolutely heavenly,” agreed Tino, “but do you really need a fifth crystal ball?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“Then I need this guy.” And with that, Tino strode over to the biggest cuddly Moomin in the shop, an enormous thing that needed his own swing as he couldn’t fit onto any of the shelves, and gave him a tight hug.

“Seriously?”

“I want him.”

Alin glanced at the label. “Ninety nine pounds? Do you know how much vodka you can buy for that?”

“Oooh, that’s a point! We’ll need to stock up on vodka before we get home. Oh, and I’m keeping this guy.”

“You’re not gonna put him at the end of your bed, are you?” Alin eyed the thing suspiciously, “because that’s gonna creep me out big time.”

“…Fair enough.”


	9. LuxMold - Hanging Out with Friends

“Well, erm, I’m glad you all think I’m small enough for the ‘small countries club’,” the Republic of Moldova beamed, staring at his new drinking buddies, though these people- some he’d known longer than others- apparently preferred coffee to strong vodka. Even Luxembourg, whom he considered an equal match when it came to a night on the piss, had opted for a glass of wine instead. Monaco had wine in one hand and coffee in the other, to his amazement. No one at this table looked too keen on using the meeting for heavy drinking though, much to his disappointment, and none of the wine kept here was his own stuff, so what was the point in forcing it down, really?

So Moldova settled for coffee, served in the most beautiful china tea set he’d ever laid eyes on, provided by the lovely Miss Liechtenstein.

“Why thank you,” he told her as the group considered their replies.

“Why of course you’re small enough,” his- secret- other half replied. Luxembourg beamed through his odd, teenage phase of a haircut, taking sip after delicate sip. That comment better not have been a double entendre though.

“It will be nice to have another local to bump up the numbers,” Liechtenstein added. It was rare to get the entire ‘tiny nations club’ together for one meeting, given that they weren’t an official organisation as opposed to a casual gossiping gaggle, but mainly because many of the nations outside the chosen host continent simply couldn’t find the time to travel such a distance- Seychelles, Singapore, Brunei this time, for instance- and even the countries in the neighbourhood often had other responsibilities- San Marino, Andorra, Malta and other new member Kosovo were all busy this month, unfortunately [even if he wasn’t keen on the latter], though fortunately the Vatican had turned down every invitation in the last century. Who needed a crabby old immortal bishop complaining about everything concerning finances or young people to a group of individuals who thought themselves as able to pass for young people anyway? Maybe the three Catholics in front of him, but not Moldy here.

“Glad to be of assistance,” he replied in the most formal French he knew. French was a language he’d learnt off his brother with general ease, but German- like for Miss Monaco- was never a strong subject for him. Even the handful of Luxembourgish he’d tried memorizing to impress his other half had come more easily- given how many words Mr Luxembourg had borrowed off Mr France in his lifetime.

Miss Liechtenstein’s little Alpine cottage was absolutely beautiful, both inside and out, and whenever there was a lull in the conversation, he loved looking at her little collection of ornamental plates and the handmade curtains and cushions. And the tablecloth, oh gosh! And the view was to die for. Moldova loved mountains, though the ones at his place were just glorified hills, so looking at the Alps through the little windows was a treat for his poor, tired eyes too. He was glad he came for the location alone.

The real reason he’d agreed to go in the first place was to make up for dragging Luxembourg to his brother’s rather wild birthday party as a plus-one, a night that wasn’t the most comfortable for any of the nations involved. In fact, the only time Romania had taken a break from grilling the unfortunate Luxembourg- not that he minded his brother dating, but did it have to be someone so old?- was to try summoning a demon to curse him with diarrhea if he ever hurt Moldova, started a war with him, invaded his country, veto-ed him from EU membership, the usual. Though to be fair, Moldova had made similar threats towards Bulgaria recently, as much as he liked the nation, but he was a strange man and dreadfully old though. Not to mention he could get real nasty when he wanted to.

“So,” he tried when no one else could think of a conversation topic, “what do you usually do in these meetings?”

“Talk about all the things we’ve bought since our last meeting,” said Monaco half-jokingly, “I, for starters, traded in my old yacht for a much nicer model.”

“We don’t all act like this,” added Liechtenstein quickly, “I mostly talk about my knitting patterns and craft projects.”

“Oh you knit?” Moldova perked up at that. “That’s incredible me too! What craft projects do you do?”

Liechtenstein’s usual polite smile widened as her whole face lit up. “Oh that’s so wonderful to hear! I’m currently working on my quilting and have been trying to get my embroidery up to a professional standard. It used to be in the 19th century but I’ve been out of practice since.”

“Embroidery is quite fun,” agreed Moldova, “but of gosh quilting. I love spending a whole day just to make a blanket or wall hanging for my home.”

“It’s true,” Luxembourg told the group, “his house is full of the things; all the colours work well together and everything is perfectly planned. He’s very skilled at making them.”

“Thank you, friend,” said Moldova, careful not to use one of their many pet names for each other. Not only were they supposed to remain a secret item, but the names themselves were rather embarrassing when shared in front of others.

“We have to get together sometime and share techniques,” Liechtenstein decided, “and I simply must visit your place to see these quilts of yours.”

“If you like those then you’ll love the embroidery on my traditional clothing!” Moldova had to refrain from flapping his arms about wildly. Too small a space coupled with too much china could spell disaster, not to mention he was supposed to be a fully fledged UN nation, unlike those ulcers he had for younger siblings.

“Oh I would absolutely love to see them,” Liechtenstein clapped her hands together, face glowing.

Luxembourg, on the other hand, had the ever so slightest of glowers going on, thankfully hidden under his thick hair for the most part, though it could never escape the sharp eyes of Monaco.

“Something the matter?” she trilled.

“Not at all,” he replied, voice as low and as elegant as he could muster.

…

“Don’t think I don’t know when you’re jealous,” Moldova sighed the moment they were out of earshot of everyone, in the garden of the picturesque cottage, finally alone. The others were still inside, Monaco probably trying to talk Liechtenstein into opening a bottle of champagne, since they were all staying the night thus it couldn’t possibly hurt if they got a little hammered. Yeah, he definitely liked Luxembourg’s best friends a lot. However, Luxembourg had warned him that she might try to challenge him to games of poker or blackjack and to decline all offers as she was too good and he was poor enough as it is.

Moldova supposed if she was skilled enough to rattle Luxembourg’s bones at the thought of lost money, then he should definitely steer clear. That, or someone was more like their older brother than they cared to admit.

The Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, however, was a little too busy trying to distract him with a series of graceful, half-coughs, and in a way it was working, as Moldova found himself mesmerised by those tiny puffs of white breath, there and gone within seconds.

Although he himself was near-frozen out here, he resisted the urge to snuggle up closer on the veranda bench they were perched on.

“I am not jealous,” Luxembourg said firmly. “Jealousy is for the petty.”

“Then you are petty.”

He almost laughed. “Charming. You need to work on your diplomacy, my young friend. You will never be allowed in the EU with that level of imprudence.”

“You let Bulgaria in, and he has the social skills of a rotting log.”

“It was a joint decision that some people weren’t too happy with. But let’s make sure this conversation never reaches his ears.”

“Indeed. We’re getting off-track though.”

“I am not jealous of you and Miss Liechtenstein.”

“I never mentioned Miss Liechtenstein.”

Luxembourg huffed and folded his arms. “I think it is nice you are making friends, and I like it when people I care for get along well, so I am very happy you like my two best friends.”

“But?”

It took a while for him to reply, and Moldova understood. Luxembourg needed time to get his words in the perfect order, not an easy task when there were at least four languages running through his mind at all times. There also seemed to be the issue that, whatever he wanted to say, it was difficult to get out.

Moldova wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it, but wasn’t going to run away from the difficult parts of life. Not after all he’d been through during his time on earth.

“Seeing you light up when talking to her, and being able to share your hobbies with someone.” He smiled. “It is wonderful, oh indeed, but…”

“Yes?” Moldova drew the word out.

“Hearing you talk with someone you have so much in common with, please understand this just cements what I have suspected all along: we have so little in common ourselves. I am useless with textiles and that is just the start of our differences.”

 _Oh_. Oh Moldova understood perfectly now. Except that he didn’t and whilst he could see where the other was coming from, he also saw just how very wrong this supposedly intelligent nation was.

“Besides a love of drinking?”

“Drinking cannot sustain a relationship, as much as I adore a man with a large wine cellar.” Not a euphemism- probably- as Moldova did have the largest underground wine cellar. And the largest wine collection, as well as the largest bottle-shaped building. Take that, France.

“You would be surprised, my dear.”

“That is it? We are just two drunks?”

“We are not at the point of becoming fully-fledged alcoholics. Is that something? But we are also tiny nations, bullied quite horribly in the past, large families and older brothers with a clear resemblance. We have been heavily influenced by our neighbours, have some latin blood, can’t turn down a good plate of pork and beans, especially washed down with beer. We have our forests and hills, and don’t look at me like that I’m not grasping at straws.”

“I didn’t say a word.” Luxembourg laughed as he shook his head, hands held in front of him. “You bring up some interesting points though.”

“Yes, you and I have a lot of differences,” Moldova continued, “but, honestly, I like that about us.”

“You do?”

Moldova beamed. “Oh but of course, it actually makes for interesting conversation. I don’t know a lot about your life, and because of that, I want to ask questions and listen to you talk. You could talk for days and I would never get bored. Likewise, it’s fun for me to share my life and interests in detail.”

“I like listening to you talk about your life and family and culture,” Luxembourg agreed with a faint smile. “And that way your face lights up when you talk about your hobbies… it’s priceless. You’re priceless.”

“I’m cheap like shit alcohol,” muttered Moldova, “and you’re more expensive than the amount of vodka it takes for me to forget the second world war.”

“So, opposites then,” said Luxembourg sarcastically, hating the harsh words the man next to him had to say for himself. “Though I agree that is also a time I would rather not dwell on.”

“Are you two grandmas still clucking like old hens?” called Monaco as the pair were blasted with the warmth of a hot fire coming from inside, a more than welcome sensation. “We’re playing strip poker.”


	10. OZNZ - Wearing Animal Ears

Every time someone called Hunapo Davies cute, somewhere on earth an orphan dropped down dead.

Or at least, that was what they told literally anyone who called them such a thing: friend, family, acquaintance, people who hated jokes about orphans dying, the whole bloody lot. Hunapo wasn’t cute; they were warm, friendly, perhaps even a little tough, but certainly not fucking pissing cute. They simply didn’t like the word! It made them feel like less of a threat, like a little grandma instead of a buff, tough rugby player.

Their argument certainly wasn’t being helped here though, and as much as they silently seethed and wished fiery pain upon the man in front of them, they knew he was well within his right to gush like they were one of his kids and not his significant other. Hunapo was dressed in a manner that could be considered cute by some, so, just this once, they let it slide.

Besides, the offence at being called such a word only strengthened Logan’s view that they were the cutest damn thing in the world, besides his little sister, so it was best not to give the man any more fuel. It was bad enough that anyone stood next to this walking toughnut stereotype looked like the tiniest china doll without him going on and on about his little elf-friend. Elves weren’t even supposed to be short, something Logan would know if he actually sat down and watched at least one Lord of the Rings film without falling asleep. That had almost been the breaking point in their relationship.

Why were they even going out with this guy? Oh, right, because they loved him. Well that sucked huge, hairy cock.

“I have to take a picture,” he all but squealed, “hold still.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” But Logan already had his phone out and had proceeded to wrap an arm around their shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” they added jokingly, refusing to smile for the camera.

“Don’t worry,” said Logan, “I’m not gonna send them to anyone. I was just thinking of printing out a copy for the sitting room. A nice big one for above the fireplace.”

“Fuck you.”

“I can’t help it if you’re so-”

“Call me cute and I’ll cut your dick off.”

Logan laughed. “I was gonna say hot, but now that you mention it…”

The phone flashed before Hunapo could reply with an insult, and their glowering face resembling a toad with its little toad testicles caught in a mousetrap was forever captured on Logan’s sim card. Just great.

“Hey come on, I look silly too,” their tree-trunk of a boyfriend tried.

“You do,” agreed Hunapo.

The source of this rather ridiculous exchange was, indeed, the fake animal ears the pair were wearing, stolen from little Charlotte’s dressing up box. Hunapo had more or less been forced into a little sheep headband they hated to admit was absolutely adorable whilst Logan himself was sporting fluffy koala ears and a shiny black nose. Well, at least they weren’t wearing the entire costumes, though those didn’t exactly fit, made for ten year olds, not grown adults with too much time on their hands. Hunapo really needed to start agreeing to work overtime or something.

“Come on,” Logan whined, “a little photo shoot wouldn’t kill anyone. It’d be something for the kids to laugh at.”

Hunapo sighed. “Okay, fine. But only because we look so cute. I mean silly.”


	11. TurkFin - Wearing Kigurumis

They were old and sad and looked absolutely awful, but neither really cared. In fact, Sadik was just glad to finally be warm.

Why was this country so freaking cold? What business did a place have being like this, with the snow and dark days with six hours of daylight and temperatures in the minus, what utter nonsense? He missed not having to wear his entire wardrobe around the house, and had long since stopped going outside. Not up here. Sure, their cabin just outside Pulju and the surrounding forest was absolutely beautiful, as were the northern lights, but it was just too cold for him. And no, Tino, the thermal suits and boots were only a plaster on an amputated leg to him.

Lucky he was on the larger side or he’d be an ice cube by now.

But every year he made the stressful journey with his other half, first to Turku- a long running joke between the two- then up and up north in Tino’s little car, boot full of blankets, cookbooks and whatever decorations Tino had bought during the year. And why did he go? Because December with Tino was not something to be missed. Not to mention, it wasn’t like his family celebrated Christmas.

The fire was roaring, and Tino had put on a CD of romantic Christmas songs for them to listen to as he pottered about the kitchen making cookies, the smell driving Sadik up the wall. Did they need to be cooked completely? Cause he could eat half-raw cookies. Tino was far from the best cook in the world, but his Christmas cookies usually turned out nice enough, and he was really hungry. Not to mention, he was the cook in this relationship, but had unfortunately been banished from the kitchen in a romantic gesture on Tino’s part [and Sadik’s, as he usually did everything he could to make sure a certain someone wasn’t allowed near an oven], thus had nothing to do but sit and smell and torture himself with images of delicious food. It was nice to just sit down by the fire though.

The sitting room was absolutely filled to the brim with decorations, the tackiest, the gaudiest, and the most festive. In fact, Tino had bought two trees to accommodate his insane collection of baubles and fairy lights. There was tinsel anywhere it could be hung from; the shelves were crawling with more ornaments and snowglobes than they had room for. The decorations hung from the ceiling, shimmering in the firelight, and the [fake] bearskin rug finished the cosy look about the place. Even the window sills had fake snow to match the real stuff outside, and just looking at them was making him shiver. He really wasn’t built for the cold.

It was lucky there was warm clothing to spare here, and Sadik was wrapped up in not only a spacious reindeer kigurumi, but opted to also wear a penguin snuggie on top, complete with turkey hat. Another running joke. It still wasn’t enough though, and a few moments earlier Tino had leant him his bear paw slippers and mittens. So yes, he looked absolutely ridiculous, but at least now he was nice and toasty.

“Ready, dear,” Tino chirped as he wandered in with a tray of cookies and coffee, “but I must warn you: they’re still hot.”

“Perfect!” Sadik completely ignored his other half’s warning, and grabbed a steaming biscuit before taking a long glug of scalding coffee. It hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t mind at all.

“A man after my own heart,” commented Tino as he, too, gulped down his coffee.

Tino himself was also wearing a fluffy kigurumi, this time Santa’s big red coat and boots, complete with hat and white knitted beard, which he had a habit of stroking when thinking. He didn’t need extra layers though, comfortable among the many knitted throws and cushions scattered across the sofa, a deep, wide affair perfect for spending the whole day just watching telly and pigging out, what the pair had been doing for the good part of a week now.

“So what shall we do now?” asked Sadik through a mouthful of cookie.

“Oh I don’t know,” Tino replied slyly, “are you up for some more snuggling?”

“Hell yes baby!”


	12. OzNZ - Making Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a tad more than making out, but writing them as just kissing would probably get boring after two paragraphs, and this idea was so stupidly fun for me that I got a little carried away. So warning for… stuff. Nothing too explicit though.

Hunapo absolutely adored those enormous hands that lifted them onto the hay bale, roughly grabbing them by the thighs and just throwing them onto the straw. They didn’t even have time to catch their breath before Logan was smothering them in kisses, all over their face and neck and they couldn’t help bursting out laughing as his stubble tickled their sensitive skin, their other half joining in.

Logan certainly looked the part, in his stable boy costume bought Hunapo didn’t know quite when, except that it was after he caught them reading a cheap- and quite shitty- erotic novel involving the lady of a manor, a stable boy and a whole world of poorly written sex scenes in a barn.

He’d never let them live it down. For some reason, it was the funniest news to Logan and ever since he’d referenced the book at any opportunity- except around his kid brother and sister- and even read the dirty bits for himself. Not the whole book though, as he struggled to stay focused through the better written ones, and this wasn’t one of the better written ones in the slightest.

This was a whole new level of ridiculous though, and, surprisingly, Hunapo didn’t mind at all. He looked hot, with the first four buttons of his shirt undone, the muscles rippling under the cheap material of his thin clothes, and that stupid flat cap that went so well with his boyish grin.

The hat really needed to come off though, before it fell off and hit them in the face, so away it was thrown, across the barn to be chewed to bits by their horse.

Hunapo would be lying if they said the only reason they’d read that stupid book wasn’t because doing it in a barn or stable had been one of their more consistent fantasies since they were in their teens, especially after Logan came into the picture.

The sad thing was that Logan- as unintuitive as he could be- figured that out in a heartbeat. Not that they were about to be judged by the man who included ‘why you should always dig your own sex hole while camping outside [and never use a ready made hole as it could be the home of something with teeth and/or venom]’ in the puberty talk with Oscar. How that boy wasn’t traumatised beyond all repair was beyond them in all honesty.

But now wasn’t the time to worry about that, Hunapo noted as Logan licked their neck, causing them to stifle a rather embarrassing giggle and moan. He nipped and dragged his teeth as he began unbuttoning their shirt with a plate-like hand, running the other through their thick curls of hair.

Okay, maybe their fantasies had been a little too idealised, because the straw was starting to itch in areas and cracks, the place smelt of horse shit and said horse was now staring at them in a way that was making them a little uncomfortable, but Hunapo could let it all slide. It was still a decent way to spend the afternoon, and, regardless, Logan was making them feel like nobility. Naughty, sinful nobility.

God, they were so turned on right now it was insane.

“My liege,” began Logan, quoting that damned book once more, “if we were to be caught, your father would have me exiled, or worse, run me through with a sword as I am about to run you through.” Yeah, the writing left much to be desired.

“We are not doing this,” they growled, but Logan just laughed.

“Come on, say the next line,” he whined into their neck, husky voice vibrating off their skin the way he knew they loved.

“You’re ruining the mood,” they whined back, pushing him away slightly

“Come on, please, for me.” He pulled his mouth into the most ridiculous of pouts, one he knew would make Hunapo give in to his request out of pure pity.

“Risk is the spice of life, my dear Thomas,” Hunapo choked back bile as they spoke. Stupid Logan.

“Then let me prove how much I love ya,” Logan punctuated his sentence with a kiss, “my liege, my love for you burns like… like…”

“Diarrhea?” suggested Hunapo.

“Eh, that’ll do.” Logan’s hands had moved back to their thighs now, brushing and rubbing gently, teasingly. They moaned into his mouth and he nibbled on their bottom lip before deepening the kiss, sneaking a hand up their shirt to run his fingers along their small stomach.

And that was that. The knot the size of a fist that had been building up inside them became too much and their hands shot up without warning, practically ripping buttons off his shirt in a haste to remove the stupid thing, and Logan just let them, falling passive as he smiled at their work, how their fingers fumbled and pulled, laced with desperation.

“Stupid shirt,” they muttered, finally freeing the other’s large chest and letting the shreds of fabric just hang there, focusing now on those toned, hairy muscles. Partially out of habit, and partially because, deep down, they were somewhat immature, they reached up and grabbed at Logan’s chest, plump pecs cupped in each hand, and gave them a squeeze.

“Honk honk!”

“Really?” Logan groaned, “every time?”

“Would it really be us if I didn’t?” they tried.

Another groan. “Ugh, fine. Now hold still, my beautiful rose, my shining star, my-”

“I’m gonna use that shitty book for target practice,” they grumbled.

“How about some target practice of our own?” Logan grinned as his hands moved down to the zipper on Hunapo’s jeans, fumbling as the other smacked their forehead with a hand.

“Oh Jesus Christ Logan!”

“What?”

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said to date!”

“Really? Even more stupid than ‘I love you’?”

They both laughed before Logan kissed them deeply, scrambling to pull their jeans off. “I mean it though. I love you, Huna.”

“Love you too, Logie.”

“What the ever loving fuck!” A horrified screech ripped through the pair of them, and Hunapo headbutted Logan in their haste to scramble up and find the source of the noise. And sure enough, standing in the doorway ready to be sick, was Logan’s brother Oscar.

“A barn?! Really? What is wrong with you people?!”

“Hey it’s my barn and I’ll do what I want in here!” growled Logan, “why the hell didn’t you knock?”

“Why would I need to knock for a place that just contains horses?” Oscar scratched at his face, stumbling back outside, “my eyes! Oh God my poor eyes! I’m scarred for life!”

“Oh I’ve walked in on you doing worse!” Logan called after him, and not for the first time, Hunapo was glad they only had sisters. “I know the real reason you’re subscribed to farming monthly!”

The only reply Oscar gave was another scream.

“We don’t even have our clothes off so stop shaming us!”

“You’re not the victim here, Logan! I’ll need therapy now!”

“Logan, go calm him down,” Huna sighed, “you know, to make sure your relationship isn’t ruined forever.”

“We’ve been through worse,” Logan reasoned. Hunapo’s glare eventually wheedled a groan out of him. “Fine, I’ll go talk to the kid. Man, I really shoulda taken out my dad’s balls the moment I was born.”

“So you can act out shit erotica wherever you wanted?” Hunapo had to smirk at that.

“Yeah. Ah fine, he’s a good kid and I don’t want to scar him and all.”

Hunapo raised an eyebrow. “More so than we’ve already done?”

“Yeah, really, given all we’ve inflicted on the boy, it could be a whole lot worse than him just wanking to farmers.”


	13. LuxMold - Eating Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings- alcohol
> 
> Notes- stupidly long again. technically contains ice cream but have you tried writing something with ice cream as the main focus? It’s boring. I’d also like to do something else with this idea in the future though. Maybe not this particular au, but the premise at least.
> 
> Luca- Luxembourg
> 
> Andrei- Moldova

“Do you ever think we should learn to swim?” commented Andrei, staring out across the North Sea and the people splashing and shrieking in the water next to the beach, windy weather kicking up the waves to a rowdy grey mess, perfect for people wanting to try out surfing. Kids screeched as they ran back and forwards up the beach trying to avoid being bowled over by the waves. On the sand there were even more holidaymakers, some beached out on towels trying to kid themselves that they were somewhere warm and tropical, not a rainy Dutch beach, others building blobs and lumps and calling them sandcastles, whilst yet more were enjoying a casual walk with lovers and family, only to be attacked by gutsy seagulls after their chips and ice cream. At the sight, Andrei covered his own cone protectively with a hand. **  
**

“I fail to see why we would need to,” Luca replied airily, licking his own ice cream in small, refined movements. Everything had to be refined with him, graceful, beautiful, only the very best. “I doubt either of us would be up for swimming in freezing water anyway. Maybe next year I’ll book somewhere in the Caribbean.”

“How about, in case your brother and my brother are right and the sea levels will rise and consume everything.”

Luca smirked. “My brother says that because he lives here and will be the first to go when they rise, and your brother is scatty as a big of cats, from what I hear.”

“Rude. But I guess you’re right.” So Andrei just got back to satisfying his remorseless sweet tooth by digging into the ice cream. Luca had let him get the biggest, most heaving mess of an ice cream covered in sprinkles, flakes and various sauces. Absolutely delicious.

“Besides, between all the glass bottles we recycle, maybe the sea will be merciful on us.” He threw the other a humoured smile, which Andrei returned.

“So,” the boy began as the two continued their walk along the promenade, “I suppose I should thank you for inviting me.” Luca didn’t get much time off from work, so the holidays he had were usually perfectly thought out with no expense spared in order to actually relax and make the most of his time. Yeah, not something to be missed if one was close to the fellow. It was also usually spent with friends and family only.

“What? We are a serious couple in a serious relationship; I think it’s about time we went away together,” Luca laughed at that but he didn’t quite seem to be joking. 

For most of the time they’d known each other, they were just two friends who happened to drink at the same pub and have differing views on who made the best wine. They helped each other get home and played drinking games, and at some point romantic affection had been thrown into the mix. Erm, secret romantic affection. There was a whopping ten years age difference between the two for starters, with Andrei only in the country for university and Luca a high-profile businessman under admittedly loose watch from the tabloids who would love to spin a simple, casual relationship into something horrifying and scandalous.

So they kept their distance, in the emotional sense, over the past year. Neither had dared mention the ‘l’ word the whole time they were together, and going out in public wasn’t an option either. In fact, the only contact outside of the pub they’d met in that they actually had was when the little history student came over to ‘do the gardening’, or whatever jobs the two could think of as an excuse, or when they met up in hotel rooms just across the border. It was essentially an affair without the adultery.

So to actually take Andrei away on a summer holiday was a big step, and not one he’d been expecting at all. In fact, if he didn’t know Luca any better, he’d have said that- when the man produced the train tickets and told him they were spending two weeks in his brother’s beach hut along the Dutch coast- Luca was playing a cruel joke on him. But he wasn’t. And here they were.

Luca’s brother now knew the whole story and was happy to give them a place to hide away [Luca wasn’t all that famous up here, so they were pretty safe], but Andrei’s brother was still in the dark on the matter, and that’s how things would stay, possibly forever. He hadn’t been too keen on his baby going away to a different country- but accepted Andrei was an adult who could make his own way in life. This, however? If he ever found out his brother was basically a friends with benefits toyboy to a 30 year old numbers cruncher, that would be it. He’d be back in Moldova before you could say ‘you were there for two years what the hell happened?’. Which was why Andrei told him he needed to stay an extra week or two to complete some holiday homework before coming home.

So the holiday, combined with Luca’s comment on them being in a serious relationship, was making his head spin and his thoughts stall.

“We’re serious now?” he almost scoffed, “come on, where did this come from?”

Luca shrugged. “We’ve been together for over a year. In our grandparents’ day we’d be married with kids now.”

“We’d be in jail,” Andrei replied skeptically.

“You would.” Luca gave an almost apologetic shrug at that. “Unless you were living in good old Luxembourg back then too.”

“Who could afford to travel back then.” Andrei raised a hand. “Don’t answer that.”

“We’re getting off track.” But Luca didn’t appear to want to get back on that track, opting instead to lick his ice cream, and look anywhere but at Andrei.

So Andrei kept quiet too. He just slurped at his own cone messily, in a way he knew Luca would’ve hated had it been anyone else. The thing was melting fast though; even on a day like this and the sauce was getting all over his hand and coat sleeve.

They just kept walking. The couple soon left the beach, climbing up to the row of huts overlooking the water just above sea level. Of course, Luca’s brother’s hut was the best of them all, designed and furnished by the younger two Morgens siblings, kept clean by the oldest, and it was the single greatest place Andrei had ever slept in.

It wasn’t really meant to be a holiday home, more a place to change out of swimsuits and spend an afternoon, but the place was so nice, and the little cushioned seating could easily double up as a snuggly bed for two. The table and deckchairs could also be put outside when Luca and Andrei were around to give them more space, and a place to sit on the veranda sipping drinks. The inside was furnished with rope, wood and glass shaped into nautical decorations, blue and white patch bunting and ships galore. And around every window and door was a waterfall of soft, airy curtain to give them some privacy.

The outside was painted in blue and white stripes, a project the three siblings had completed together, and the flower pots of tulips outside stood a mile out from the rest. And yes, because of that the beach hut had been broken into before.

“Mmm, home sweet home,” Andrei joked in an attempt to alleviate some of that awkward silence that had fallen between the two.

“Indeed.” Luca just settled down on the sofa bed, finishing off his ice cream and refusing to look at the other.

“So we’re in a serious relationship then?” All this messing about was wasting precious holiday time and making them both deeply uncomfortable, so they might as well just get on with it. Maybe it would help Luca with his obvious emotional repression too.

“That’s what I thought. You know, we’ve been together this long, we’re taking trips together. I just… I don’t know. Supposed you felt the same?”

Andrei didn’t reply immediately. If he was going to be honest with himself, he’d thought Luca was using him for a fling, that they both knew this, and that silly emotions and hope would just makes thing more painful when it came to its inevitable ugly conclusion. Maybe he’d secretly hoped Luca would see him more than just what they were, but to acknowledge such a thing would only crush him to pieces.

In fact, late at night when his only company were alcohol and his demons, they would torment him with the idea that he was little more than a prostitute for a dirty, lonely businessman, and that any hope for the future he had was just wishful thinking. The thing about being around Luca was that he didn’t have to drink- or think- alone.

“Maybe I do,” he tried, “but, you know, it’s a whole different thing to be a full-fledged, out in public couple, and I understand the embarrassment it would cause to be seen with me in that way.” An understatement. It would stain Luca’s reputation forever.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t take things further,” Luca glanced away, fiddling with his hands. “You know, this probably wouldn’t have lasted so long if it was just fun. I mean, surely it would’ve blown up for us now if we weren’t taking this a little seriously.”

“I suppose.” Andrei shrugged. “So… do you see us getting married and living together?”

Luca made a noise that conveyed he didn’t know.

“Well, do you see us going public at least?”

That same noise.

“So what do you want us to do?”

“I don’t know,” Luca snapped, “I don’t, okay? All I know is I don’t want to lose you.”

Andrei shifted, carefully sitting down besides him and taking his hand. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I like living in Luxembourg, and I think I could convince my family to accept I want to stay there. Hell, maybe they can move here too and meet you.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Luca drummed his fingers against the sofa nervously, “you know, your family knowing? Didn’t you say your brother was a witch or something?”

Andrei shrugged. “Apprentice witch to a drug dealer. It’s a long story but he can’t actually do any magic. And they’ll have to find out sometime.” He exhaled slowly as he pondered his next move. “I want this to work out too. I really do. But, I never thought it would. I never thought you wanted it to.” He wasn’t entirely sure how to word this without offending the other, but Luca seemed to get the general idea.

“And, you know,” he rubbed his arm as he spoke, “I didn’t want to come across as this silly, naive kid that thinks the world’s a fairytale and you just fall in love with the first person you find and live happily ever after. I know the world doesn’t work like that, but…”

“Hey you’re not silly for falling in love.” Luca’s smile as he rested a hand on Andrei’s did little to alleviate that sinking feeling inside of him. He still felt anxious even after snatching his hand away.

“Who said anything about love?” he gasped out, “come on, let’s not go that far.”

Luca’s face fell. “Oh, right.”

“You love me?” Andrei’s face stretched out into a grin at that. He was loved? Luca loved him? Wanted a future with him? Someone outside of his family wanted to be around him? Luca had planned for a future, most likely, and he wanted to know all about it.

“No,” Luca replied, a little too quickly.

Andrei’s grin widened at the other’s flushed face and half-hearted lies. “You do! You do love me!”

“Okay, not so loud; the door’s still open.” Luca still wasn’t looking at him, instead admiring the glass hangings by the window. With a sigh, Andrei got up, shut the door, and drew the curtains around the whole room.

“Happy?”

“Very.” The warm smile Luca gave them just melted Andrei’s heart like the remains of his ice cream.

“Oh,” he began, nervously leaning against the door frame, “for what it’s worth, I love you too, Morgens.”


	14. TRNSea - Genderswapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first ever TRNSea au, where they were girls and TRNC had just moved to London and met Sea in a park. Yeah that one, from three years ago that I’d forgotten.
> 
> Kebire- TRNC
> 
> Pauline- Sealand

“Just be good for a few hours, and I promise I will pick you up as soon as I can.” A quick kiss of the forehead and he made to leave, but Kebire still clung to her baba. No, wait, why did he have to go? Why was he leaving her in the middle of nowhere in this strange country? Baba was the only thing that still made sense and she couldn’t lose him too, not after everything else they’d been through together and lost together. Where was he going? **  
**

“I have to go to work,” he urged, “please, you have to stay here.”

“Don’t leave me,” she whined, but it did little good. He kissed her forehead again before standing up.

The playground was empty, save for the pair of them, swings creaking in the gentle breeze.

“Hey, listen baby, my little Kebire,” he kept talking, voice flat, “you have to be good for baba today. Remember what I told you? Stay hidden, and if anyone asks, say your anne is getting you ice cream and will be back soon. Do not go with any strangers. Stay hidden. You have your lunch and your books so you should be okay until I get back.” He ruffled her ponytail under it’s little flowery scarf, smiling a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I have to go to work now, to build a future for us; I’ll be back in a few hours.” And with that, he made to take his leave. Although he told her to stay hidden, Kebire couldn’t help making her way to the climbing frame to watch him go, jogging across the park in the early morning light to get back to his car, the same old hunk of metal they’d literally stuffed everything they could fit in a whole whopping month ago in a similar early morning back home.

Kebire shivered. London was way colder than any part of Turkey she’d been to, and most parts of Europe for that matter, especially at six in the morning. Lucky baba had used the last of his money to buy her a nice coat, second hand, but comfy enough. Kebire smiled, rubbing the woolen sleeves with her fingers, the same soft stuffing lining the inside of the garment. Baba loved her so much, would do anything for her.

She couldn’t help worrying at the lack of money though. It was probably for the best that her baba had found a job, but that didn’t mean she had to like him going away like this, leaving her by herself all day.

It had been fine when it was just job interviews, and he could leave her in the hotel room for a few hours and she’d stay relatively amused with her own company. But now he was actually working- on a farm just outside the city of all things- she couldn’t be left by herself all day, trapped in the one room to be found by hotel staff and get baba in trouble. He explained nine year olds weren’t supposed to be left alone, but she didn’t quite understand that. She was a grown up girl, after all. And besides, after what she’d seen a day by herself sounded far less scary, even if that meant being away from baba for so long.

He’d promised he’d never leave her, but he also promised they’d live comfortably some day so it was one or the other right now. Besides, he’d be back. He said he would be, and baba’s word was everything to her.

So Kebire climbed down, crawled into one of the tunnels in the playground, and made herself comfortable. It wasn’t so bad, besides the cold, which made her grumble to herself as he rubbed her frozen, red fingers together and took out one of her many exercise books, filled with colourful maths problems to keep her amused. Baba had also packed her a classical novel and homemade lunch that would keep even a growing kid woken up at five in the morning going for the whole day. She would be fine. She preferred being alone anyway, especially at school where she couldn’t wait for lessons to end so she could sit by herself and read, or get started on her homework or sit with her maths teacher for extra lessons if baba was at work. She was better off without people, especially other children.

All she really needed was baba.

Kebire tried to ignore the niggling anxieties in her mind, telling her baba had left her for good. That he didn’t want her anymore because she was trouble. That he, like everyone else in her life, was gone now.

So she poured herself into her maths problems. She loved finding logical solutions to tasks, and these usually had a black and white way of being solved, no grey area to think about. Often, there was more than one way to get the problem nice and resolved, to make things all the more exciting, and she also loved having plenty of solutions at her disposal.

It made her feel powerful.

Not to mention, a knowledge of the insides and out of numbers- and everything they controlled- meant numerous ways to get money. She could do it, somehow. Okay, she had no idea what business actually meant, or what it was like to have one, only that businesspeople were rich and knew how to use numbers to their advantage. Sounded like the perfect job, really.

And then she and baba could live in a mansion and eat banquets every day and watch soaps on a flat-screen TV the size of a wall whilst staff followed behind cleaning everything up for them. Then again, baba would probably waste all his time telling them they weren’t doing their job correctly and doing said jobs for them. It was just how he was.

Kebire remained undisturbed for a large part of the day- the whole morning, in fact- due to the fact that most kids her age were actually in school, learning or daydreaming or wasting classmates’ time. She wondered when her baba would enroll her in a local school, since it had been so long since she’d gone. She wondered what the lessons would be like here, what the other children would be like, or would she have to hide in this tunnel every day?

“Oy!”

Kebire let out a shriek, trying to jump up to scramble away, but only succeeding in bashing her head off the top of the tunnel. Her teeth clamped down in her tongue and stars and spots covered her vision, not to mention the splitting headache not alleviated by clutching at her skull.

“What on earth?” she whined, forgetting her bruised head- and the lump developing under her hair- in order to gather up her pens and books. “Go away!” She didn’t bother looking at her assailant until she spoke up again.

“Hey, wait, where ya goin’? I just wanted to say hi!”

Kebire glanced over with a glare, quickly and without interest taking in the sight of a girl about her age with a bright, round face dotted with wheat-coloured freckles to match her messy twin plaits. Everything about the kid was scruffy, from the rips in her jorts to the mud on her plimsolls to her big beaming smile, showing off her train track braces.

“Fine. Hello. Now go away.”

The girl’s grin finally fell away, replaced with a juvenile pout.

“Hey, come on. There’s no need to be a meanie.”

Kebire looked her up and down, at the skinny arms poking out of her blue shirt, weighed down with sweatbands, homemade bracelets and rubber bands. The girl didn’t seem to be that bad a person, but baba told her no talking to strangers. When she repeated that to the girl, however, she just laughed.

“That means no grown up strangers! My brothers told me the same thing,” she waved a hand with a scoff.

“Where are your brothers?” asked Kebire, despite herself.

“Other side of the park,” replied the girl with a shrug, “playing rugby and being stupid. It’s hard being the youngest, huh?”

Kebire sighed. “I wouldn’t know.”

The girl looked away, biting her lip as she considered what to say. “I’m guessing no younger siblings either.” Kebire nodded. “Only child? Wow. That must be nice.”

“Are your brothers horrible?” She couldn’t help asking. This kid was annoying, but she was friendly, and really nice, and she hoped she wasn’t being picked on by these brothers.

“Nah,” the girl scoffed, “just loud and noisy. They like fighting too, but I can always beat them up easy!”

“Right.”

The girl smiled at her, light and warm. “Oh, I’m Pauline, by the way. Pauline Clarabelle Kirkland.”

“Kebire Adnan.” Kebire curled up, hugging her knees through her thick skirt and pulling at the wrinkles of her tights that pooled around her ankles.

“Nice to meet you, Kebire,” even the way she said Kebire’s beautiful name was loud and obnoxious, but, in a way, she liked it. “So, where are your parents?”

As she struggled to recall what baba had told her, Kebire’s mind slipped into a slight panic. “Erm, well, my- my anne, my mother, is getting me some ice cream. She- she’ll be back soon.”

“Oh,” well Pauline seemed to buy it, “okay. Could I play with you until then? There’s no one else here.”

“They’re probably at school,” Kebire explained flatly.

“Well why aren’t you?”

“Why aren’t  _you_?”

“Had a dentist appointment, din I?” she tapped her teeth, “getting these things tightened. My brothers said there was no point me going after that so we went to the park instead. They don’t go to school much anymore. And you?”

“Not in school yet,” Kebire hoped she wasn’t sweating as much as she felt like she was, “just moved here from Turkey.”

“Woah that’s so cool! …Where’s Turkey?”

“Never mind,” despaired Kebire, “look, I’m doing long division. Want to help?”

Pauling wrinkled her nose and made a fart sound, much to the other’s horror. “Ew that sounds boring! Come on, let’s play pirates instead!”

…

“Your mum never did come back,” Pauline noted, concern dripping into her voice.

“I don’t have an anne,” Kebire admitted, “but my baba- my father- should be here soon.”

“You have a dad?” asked Pauline in interest, “what’s that like?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean. It’s like having an anne but he’s big and loud and likes hugs. And he makes me food all the time, and loves cooking.”

“Did he make your lunch?” Pauline licked her lips at that; Kebire had been kind enough to share her packed lunch.

“Yes. He’s wonderful like that.”

“You’re nice too,” Pauline told her. And Kebire had to admit she thought Pauline was very nice as well. Too loud, and not her first choice of company, but even when she was dragging Kebire about in a boisterous manner, she’d had fun. Pauline just breathed life into whoever she was around, and it was wonderful.

But now the sun was beginning to set, and Pauline’s brothers called and waved to her from the other side of the field stretching before them. With some reluctance, she helped Kebire off of the climbing frame they’d been sat on for the past hour, Pauline hanging upside-down for the most of it.

“I guess this is it,” she mumbled, “unless you want to wait for your dad at our place. You can text him our address or something.”

“It’s fine, I don’t have a phone anyway,” Kebire shrugged. “I’ll be fine! Baba should be here any minute anyway, hell, you might even run into him on the way out.”

Pauline took a few steps towards the playground gate. “Well, if you say so… Look, it was nice meeting you, Kebire.”

“Likewise, Pauline.”

With a flick of her messy braids, Pauline was gone, off through the grass with the sunset on her back. Kebire, meanwhile, disappeared back into her tunnel to continue a now-lonely wait.


	15. RoBul - In a Different Clothing Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last three days have taken it out of me a bit, so here’s a nice short one to make me feel better about the workload. The clothing style is steampunk, because what is unpredictability? The ending is stupid because I am stupid.
> 
> Tsvetan- Bulgaria
> 
> Alin- Romania

He thought he would throw up from the excitement of it all, the anticipation bubbling in his stomach that manifested in palms so slick with sweat and oil- and possibly a hint of blood from the scrapes and cuts he’d sustained and ignored the past few days- he could barely keep a hold of his screwdriver. It was done.

The robot looked back at him, dead eyes staring straight past to his overcrowded workbench, much like the rest of his workshop, teeming with cogs and wires and scraps of metal. Any tool a mechanic could need was stacked only slightly neatly on shelves, along with bucket upon bucket of bolts, nuts, nails and gears. Not that Tsvetan Borisov cared about the mess; his place in life was to build and create, not clean, and who needed to worry about such things when genius filled your mind instead? If he had to stop and tidy up every little thing behind him, then his creativity would become stunted and his brain backlogged with fresh ideas left to rot whilst he made sure every spanner was in size order. Urgh.

But back to the robot.

He was the most beautiful thing Tsvetan had ever created, life size and almost lifelike, save for his fine, bronze face, made of dozens of layers of plates to give him the full range of emotion, shining like a finely polished trumpet. His eyes, protected under glass, were made from rubies, pure and sliced to perfect little irises. Lips full. Teeth pointed. The robot’s hair was fine gold wire, styled and combed to a long, layered style he once saw in an old photograph of a long-dead Romanian poet: Alin Radacanu.

That’s what he would call this beauty: Alin. Soothing.

Every wire, every cog was in place, after years of planning and piecing together, countless fails and setbacks, miscalculations. The coal in the robot’s chest was boiling the water tank nicely now, steam spilling from the vents in his shoulders and back.

This was it.

Tsvetan flipped the switch nestled snug in Alin’s chest, and those eyes sputtered into life, blinking slowly and curiously, like a newborn baby looking about its world for the first time. When he laid eyes on Tsvetan, though, he gave a friendly smile.

“What is my purpose?” he asked in a monotonous voice, little dagger teeth twinkling.

“You pass butter.”


	16. SuFin - Morning Rituals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gunner - Denmark

Berwald yawned as he stared at himself in the mirror, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand and scratching at the stubble that had grown overnight. His glasses were stuffed in his frayed dressing gown pocket, so his face in the mirror just looked like a greying pink blob from where he stood. **  
**

Although he loved his job, those few days off where he could just relax were heavenly. Of course, he still woke up reasonably early, when the cold had seeped into his joints and muscles and the winter sky was pitch black, sometimes grey if he was particularly tired and had slept in for an extra hour, or he’d not bothered to get out of bed immediately.

Tino was particularly beautiful when he was sleeping, so sometimes he would simply watch him, fuzzy and blurred but heavenly all the same. He loved watching the other’s fine hair twitch and fly in time with his snoring; the way his mouth hung open, shining with drool; how he clung to Berwald when he was cold, or just in a clingy mood.

This morning, he’d whined in his sleep when Berwald pulled away to get up, shivering at the sudden cold. Like every other morning. He’d soon snuggled back into his pillow, though, when Berwald pulled the quilt up over his bare shoulders.

Tino would be up at some point, and until then he had to resist the urge to put cling film over the toilet seat, just like every other damn morning. It’d be a good laugh. Honestly, he would if Gunner or someone else was staying over and would be sure to get up first, but no one in their right mind fucked with Tino Väinämöinen before his first coffee of the day. Not that Tino wouldn’t see the funny side- eventually- but it just wasn’t worth it.

Deciding it was best not to stay in the bathroom thinking about it for too long, Berwald simply set to brushing his teeth, and after that he’d try to shave half-asleep and wash his face, something a little easier to do half-asleep and far less dangerous.

Just as the toothbrush entered his mouth, the corner of the door hit Berwald in the shoulder.

“Sorry, Ber,” Tino muttered as he barged past, “gotta take a leak.” And with that, the early morning peace and tranquility was shattered by the sound of fast piss hitting the bowl of the toilet. To add to the disgusting sound, Tino gave a loud belch.

And yes, Berwald still thought he was absolutely beautiful.

Tino was in his underwear: off-coloured white briefs with dirty white socks, and as such, Berwald could see every hair and scar and blemish on his back and legs, and had to resist the urge to run a finger down his spine. Tino might panic and suplex him by accident.

“M’rning,” he greeted with a yawn that Tino mirrored.

“Morning, hon,” he mumbled, “shit weather outside, huh?”

Berwald replied with a grunt. The drizzle from yesterday must’ve escalated, then.

“Who’s turn is it to make the coffee?” asked Tino, shaking the last few drops of piss from his dick before stuffing it back in his undies.

“Mm.”

“Thanks, dear.” He turned around to wash his hands, snuggling close to his husband before taking his own toothbrush out of its cup. “Hey, how about we make ourselves some breakfast in bed today?”

Berwald gave the tiniest of smiles at the idea.

“I’d like tha’.”


	17. CuBel - Spooning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short and sweet one, sorry. These will get longer I swear. I really ought to do more for this ship.
> 
> Carlos- Cuba
> 
> Anri- Belgium

Carlos didn’t know if the world could get any more perfect right now.

Honestly, this moment was something from a dream, and he had to wonder if it was indeed something from his imagination. The burn of the rum in his cocktail, the salt of the sea and the warmth of the woman next to him, the vanilla scent of her hair in his nostrils, told him otherwise.

This holiday had been a fantastic idea. They were both more relaxed than they’d been for the past year, the stresses of work gone for two weeks as they wiled away their time lounging on a Cuban beach, eating ice creams and chocolates, sometimes paddling in the sea to cool down, mostly snuggling up together in a hammock in the shade of a wide parasol. Next to them was a table covered in bottles of differing levels of emptiness and the melted remains of yet another helping of ice cream, mint with generous heaps of chocolate and toffee sauce and spoons licked clean.

The sun was setting now, golden like a good bottle of rum. It stretched out over their heads to become the purple night sky, and before them it melded into the calm sea, sparkling and twinkling for them.

Anri snuggled closer to him, curled up in front of him in a little summer dress, dozing with a smile on her full lips. His entire body was resting against her back, almost protectively. Her hair tickled his face and the arm her head was resting on was long dead, but Carlos didn’t care one bit.

Maybe later, when they’d finished dozing, they could go to a nightclub, or even just get something to eat and snuggle up in the beach house, about twenty metres behind them. And who knows what they’d get up to tomorrow? A city tour? More lounging about on the beach? Whatever Anri felt like, he was happy to go along with. There was only one thing he really wanted to do before this fortnight was up: visit his family a few times and introduce her to them all. It would take a few days to get through everyone- he had a big family- but Anri told him she didn’t mind, and was really excited to meet them all.

He just wanted to show her off to everyone. He wanted to walk up in front of a crowd of people and shout about how much he loved his girlfriend and how great she was.

But instead, Carlos stroked at her hair and planted a kiss on her cheek.


	18. HuttMol - Doing Something Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings- Alcoholism, sexual humour
> 
> Notes- I picked gardening for the thing to do together. Also what are functional families?

“I’ve never actually seen an alcoholic’s garden before,” commented Mike, a sentence he knew damn well would make the other more than a little peeved- and was just plain insensitive- but it was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Not for the first time, where Mike was concerned. For a boy ever so guarded and cautious, one would think he’d be more careful with his words. **  
**

“My brother is not an alcoholic,” Oscar snapped, “he’s just Australian.”

“This is the first Australian garden I’ve been in that’s had a shopping cart in the corner;” Mike waved at the rather unfortunate stolen item, now rusted and a trellis for a healthy collection of weeds.

“Logie and Huna tend to get carried away on nights out,” reasoned Oscar and Mike just shook his head. Okay, so he was still in denial about his brother’s drinking problem, and from the way he was usually so quick to point out Logan’s flaws rather than defend him, Mike could only assume it was a serious problem indeed. Probably bordering on alcoholism. But alas, he was still in denial so there was nothing Mike himself could do except change the subject and bring it up at a later date when he was mentally prepared for the argument. Or maybe talk to Logan’s other half or sister about it instead and see if he could get more from them.

“You know,” he began, “I thought a hundred dollars each was steep for two uni students doing a bit of gardening, but now I can see why Huna said it.”

“Yes they really have let this place get out of hand.” Oscar threw a him a fake smile, hand perched on a slender hip as he looked about the place, possibly wondering just where they were to start. Mike supposed it harder for him. He just saw a fuckload of backbreaking work, Oscar saw the ruins of his family home, and a garden he’d tended since he could walk now overgrown and uncared for. Mike, for the other’s sake, pretended he didn’t see how Oscar’s lip wobbled at the sight of all these weeds, empty beer cans and the pile of junk down the end of the garden.

“I say let’s get the heavy stuff outta the way,” suggested Mike, “and by that, I mean the mess at the bottom of the garden. We’ll get some hedge trimmers and just fuck all that junk your brother’s been stockpiling down there into the skip and work our way up. Tomorrow we can do all the planting and light work.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Oscar gave an affirmative nod, flipping his hair in approval, “although, I suspect there are items down there Logan would like to keep. We really ought to ask him first.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, idiot, an anniversary gift from Huna;” Mike rolled his eyes, giving the other a nudge, “besides, what’s he gonna do with old tires, broken paving slabs and, yup, a dead kangaroo?”

Oscar recoiled. “Oh God, is that what that lump is?”

“Where the hell did you think that smell was coming from?”

“Logan’s room?” he tried tentatively.

“Nice.”

“Um, look,” Oscar fiddled with his hands for a moment, “if you… if you deal with the dead kanga, I’ll let you do literally anything to me in bed. Whatever your heart desires. Just, please don’t let me touch it.”

Mike grinned. “Well, I can’t say no to that. Fine. Still think this is better than volunteering as a lab test subject?”

Oscar laughed. “Yes. I heard someone had their face blow up on them.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that to happen to that pretty mug of yours, would we?” He nudged Oscar’s cheek gently with his knuckles, knowing full well how too-into his appearance the young man was.

“Can’t make yours any worse.”

“Fuck you.”

“Look, let’s just get started,” said Oscar, “we have a lot to get through and Hunapo isn’t paying us to stand around looking pretty.”

“Well no, that would make us models, not gardeners.”

…

“Looking good so far,” Oscar smiled to himself, and with good reason too. The garden they’d been working on for five hours now looked so much better than the mess they’d walked into earlier, and even if there was still a lot to get done, he was proud of them both. The grass had been strimmed by Oscar to a level the lawnmower could now handle, and half the junk at the bottom was now in a skip out front thanks to Mike, including any corpses he’d found, hopefully none human.

Mike himself was trudging towards him, arms sagging from the weight of a crusty cardboard box of inflatable love dolls [he didn’t want to know about that night or why the box looked like it something thick had dried on it], face like a parent who’s just found out their kid’s a pothead who loved joyriding and was wondering where it all had gone wrong.

“I’ll have my full list of kinks written up for you tonight, and you should know they include astronaut helmets, cowboy boots and this cactus dildo I got years ago,” he muttered as he waddled past.

“Do I even want to know?” asked Hunapo from behind them, causing the two boys to let out the most undignified of yelps, and Mike to drop his box.

“Jesus wept Huna!” he screeched, “don’t sneak up on us like that!”

“Okay, damn, I just wanted to bring you hard workers some refreshments,” they held up a little tray filled with a jug of lemonade and biscuits. “I thought you both could do with a break.”

“We could, thanks bud,” Mike winked, “oh, since you’re here, I gotta ask. Where the hell did you and Logan get the sex dolls? And… why?”

“I believe the purpose of a sex doll is sex, right?” Hunapo raised an eyebrow, blushing furiously and looking anywhere but at the boys in front of them, “we didn’t get them for that reason though, they were just hidden in the JCB we stole and we didn’t find them til we’d sobered up.”

“Why the fuck would you steal a JCB?” exclaimed Mike in horror.

“Banter. We did return it though. Eventually. In a few pieces but whatever.”

“Oh my God what-”

“So we plan to have everything done by tomorrow,” said Oscar quickly.

“Oh, well that’s very good of the both of you,” Hunapo threw them a sweet smile, “but there’s no need to rush if that’s what you’re worried about. Logan won’t be out for another month so you have plenty of time.”

Oscar blinked, glancing at Hunapo in confusion. “Out of where? Jail?”

“No, rehab.”

No one spoke for a full minute before Oscar opened his mouth and asked in a broken voice: “I’m sorry what?”

“Your brother’s an alcoholic,” Hunapo explained flatly, “you were literally the last in the family to notice.”

“Told you,” Mike muttered.

“My brother is in rehab and you never bothered to tell me?” Oscar, red in the face, looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Well, I mean, I only just got out myself,” Hunapo shrugged, “this is why you should make an effort to call every now and again. And why I called you over to do the garden. I want it to look nice for when he comes out.”

Oscar was too busy making a noise like a boiling kettle to reply properly.

…

“We finally did it,” Mike muttered, absolutely dripping with sweat as he and Oscar admired their considerable handiwork. They couldn’t believe it was done, since those promised two days had stretched out into nearly a week, but here they were, exhausted but satisfied. And the garden looked beautiful.

The mess at the end of it had now been replaced with a flower bed overflowing with little bedding plants, Hunapo having been instructed when to plant seeds and bulbs next spring, and the existing flower beds along the sides, too, were filled to the brim and sparkling like freshly-watered jewels. The lawn was bright green, clear of all rubbish, and freshly cut to add to the satisfying smells of the place. Oscar had even gone to the trouble to fork out for a little water feature in the corner, quite forgetting all about drought season.

“It looks lovely,” Hunapo muttered behind them, “thank you both so much.”


	19. LuxMold - In Formal Wear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does this pairing always get so long? Also Ro is saltier than the entire Goddamn ocean.
> 
> Warnings: One suicide mention, age difference/slight underage
> 
> Andrei- Moldova
> 
> Alin- Romania
> 
> Luca- Luxembourg
> 
> Monique- Monaco
> 
> Katya- Ukraine

“I look like an idiot,” Andrei grumbled into the collar of his shirt, arms folded.

“Oh no, you do,” his brother agreed, “like one of your idiot boyfriend’s idiot fancy friends, only worse, but I wouldn’t say it’s a bad thing. Maybe people will stop coming to their own conclusions and judgements and the like, at least about the contrasting wealth between the two of you. We can’t do much for your ages though.” He wrinkled his nose at that.

Andrei just rolled his eyes, electing to ignore Alin, like every other time he talked about his- admittedly older- boyfriend. What did three years matter? Really? It wasn’t like Luca was some creepy old teacher of his, he was a kid at his school who genuinely liked him for who he was. Well, he was now at college, about to start university, but still…

He hoped Luca would like all this effort he’d gone to. Not that the suit actually cost him anything, just a donation at the charity shop he volunteered at on Sundays that Katya was going to rag because of the massive tear in the shirt, until he rescued it. The shiny black shoes, too, were incredibly cheap, thanks to his staff discount. Now his shirt had been mended, nicely hidden underneath the purple pinstripe blazer to match his trousers, he looked relatively neat, and the suit could’ve been new. The shirt itself would’ve been hideous to most people, being pink silk that shone with hues of purple and gold, but Andrei loved it, as did Alin, even if it was old-fashioned and a bit stupid and made him look ridiculous.

And Luca would have to love it too. After all, he still had yet to meet the approval of Andrei’s older brother; the only family the boys had left were each other so it was unsurprising that Alin was a little suspicious of anyone who tried to take his brother away or hurt him, in his mind, and he was of the strong belief that Luca was as fake as the breasts on his imaginary girlfriend.

There was also the incident of the first time Luca had come round, when Alin was at work and the two boys had the place to themselves. Things had been new and exciting at that moment, and they might’ve gotten a little carried away. In fact, Andrei had been seconds away from telling Luca they’d gone far enough, things were going too fast for him, and could they watch a film instead? But before he could get his words out, Alin had come home from work, seen the pair of them and his distressed little brother, and… safe to say it had not been pretty. Andrei being fifteen at the time certainly didn’t help.

It had taken months to convince Alin it had all been a misunderstanding and could Luca please be allowed back in the house? It was rather frustrating having to meet him in secret, and probably the last thing Alin actually wanted. At least if the pair of them were under his nose he could see Luca wasn’t a bad person and could be trusted with Andrei.

Luca himself was doing everything he could to convince Alin too, and had barely so much as held hands with his boyfriend since that incident, taking things painfully slow and even making an effort to talk to Alin in the street when he saw him, something the socially awkward young man wasn’t the most pleased about, especially when he had to introduce Luca to whomever he was previously talking to… as Andrei’s boyfriend.

Tonight, however, was the night Andrei was certain Alin would finally forgive Luca and then his two favourite guys would get along.

“I suppose I don’t look so bad,” he said to himself, turning in the full-length mirror in Alin’s room. The little top hat was a nice finish, he decided. “Look, can I trust you to be civil to Luca? He’ll be here any minute now.”

“Can I trust Luca to keep his hands off you?” Alin raised an eyebrow.

“Christ on a bike going to mass! It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Alin crossed his arms and legs, leaning back on his bed where he’d been sat.

“We’re two teens dating, nothing wrong with that.”

“Except that he’ll be twenty next year.”

Andrei shrugged. “Look, Luca likes me for me, and is really nice if you’d just give him a chance.”

“To do what, exactly?” growled Alin, “fill you with flowery words that he loves you and he’ll never leave you and you’re his special man. That everyone else is wrong and you’ll overcome the prejudice one day.” He sighed, glaring at the ground. “He’ll say whatever it takes to get you into bed, then leave you cold and humiliated.”

Oh, right. Of course. Tsvetan. The forty year old who’d left Alin biting back tears at the altar after he simply disappeared.

“What happened to you won’t happen to me,” Andrei insisted, “this is different.”

Alin gave a bitter smile. “That’s exactly what I said to mum about dad. You know, before she put her head in the oven. Break the cycle. Don’t become like us.”

Andrei scowled. “Okay, look, our family hasn’t had the greatest luck with love. I’ve seen that. But what if this is the end of our curse?”

“How the hell can you still be so naive and innocent after everything that’s happened?” Alin shook his head.

“Optimistic, dear brother,” Andrei sighed, “what goes down must come back up.”

“Hmph.”

Andrei groaned, trying his best not to crumple up his suit. “Please, this is a big night, don’t spoil it for me. Hey, you know what? Lecture me all you want tomorrow, but tonight I’m actually going to a formal dance at a college student’s house! That’s pretty cool!”

“Whose party is it again?” asked Alin in a way that clearly meant ‘what sort of person hired out a ballroom for their twentieth birthday party?’

“Monique Bonnefoy,” Andrei replied, “you’d like her!”

“Hmph.”

The ringing of the doorbell made it all the more easier for Andrei to ignore his brother as he rushed out of the room and down the stairs, nearly tripping on the hems of his trousers as he ran.

Sure enough, Luca was waiting on the doorstep for him, holding aloft a single, shining rose.

“Jesus Christ, just one?” Alin barked from behind his brother, “stingy much? You’ll turn into your brother if you’re not careful. Andrei doesn’t even like flowers; he cries when they wilt and die.”

“It’s glass,” Luca replied simply, “I know better than to buy real flowers now.”

“Alin, please leave us alone,” muttered Andrei, blushing furiously, “you’re embarrassing.”

“Well being embarrassing is what older brothers are for,” tried Luca, which just made Andrei roll his eyes.

“You don’t have to defend him; it won’t make him like you any better. Don’t wait up for us, Alin.” And with that, he grabbed Luca’s arm and pulled him down the garden path.

“Thank you for the rose, by the way,” mumbled Andrei as he wrapped his hands around Luca’s arm and snuggled up close. The flower itself went in one of his inside pockets. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Oh, no problem.”

“You look beautiful too.” And he did, in a neat pinstripe navy suit, shirt sharp, tie neat, shoes almost a mirror they were so shiny. His hair had been combed to cashmere, eyes shining as he stared down at his boyfriend.

“You too,” he replied, “bold and unique.” Whilst most people would mean this sarcastically, Andrei was certain Luca didn’t. He wasn’t like that.

“So are you looking forward to tonight?” he asked.

“Oh of course,” Luca smiled warmly, “it’ll be fun for us, dare I say it, to be away from your brother’s… watchful eye for a few hours.”

“Oh indeed,” he sighed, “look, I know I’ve never really explained why he’s like this, but my brother isn’t just being a dick for no reason. I’m not excusing him, but there are things you don’t know about… yeah…”

Luca laughed, almost bitterly. “I had an inkling.”

…

“Tonight was wonderful,” Andrei sighed wistfully, almost gliding along next to Luca, boys arm in arm and snuggling close. They’d danced all night long, surrounded by friends and acquaintances who didn’t care who they were, only happy for their love. Yes, Andrei was certain it was love now. What else could it be? He thought he would faint as his heart somersaulted in his ribcage and his knees turned to jelly. He was in love. He was in love. He was absolutely, unrelentingly, unapologetically in love with Luca Morgens.

But since they’d only been going out for a few months at this point, he decided to keep that fact to himself.

Luca had been so proud to show Andrei off to his friends, something the boy suspected wouldn’t have happened if he was planning on running off and leaving him anytime soon. Right?

 _Right_?

“Oh it was,” Luca almost moaned back, “the atmosphere was perfect, and we looked incredible together, dancing for hours. I’m glad you like my friends, by the way.”

“They’re good company,” Andrei agreed. His mind was elsewhere though, picturing that moment, out on the balcony, where they kissed under the protection of the moon and the night’s shadows, just the two of them at last with their well-earned privacy. Since the… incident, Luca had been very careful with his little boyfriend, too careful, Andrei believed, as their touches were so chaste, guarded, utterly vanilla and innocent. It was driving him up the wall.

So it was nice to finally be able to pull Luca into a deep, passionate kiss, pushing him against the rail of the balcony, pulling him down by the tie until they were level, even sneaking a hand down his collar to massage his neck. Luca could barely talk by the end of it.

“Say,” he began as they were walking up his garden path, rubbing the back of his head with a hand, “that was quite the moment we had back there, you know, on the balcony.” He swore he saw Luca shiver with glee.

“Indeed,” he whispered, “maybe… we should do it again sometime.”

“You mean like now?” asked Andrei slyly, fiddling with his hands. Luca, however, was more than a little reluctant.

“Won’t your brother see?”

Andrei scoffed, waving a hand. “Pfft, nah. He’ll be asleep. As long as you’re quiet, he won’t know.”

Well that was all the encouragement Luca needed. He- gently- grabbed Andrei’s wrists, lifting them above their heads as he pushed Andrei against his own front door, stalling at the clatter it made. Neither moved for a full minute, hearts in their mouths as they listened out for any sign of life coming from inside. Hearing none, Luca quickly continued.

Of course, he went straight for the lips, a longtime lover of the idea of such romantic gestures, capturing the other in a long, deep kiss, leaving Andrei practically melting against the door before moving down to his chin, jaw, neck. Andrei stuffed his fingers in his mouth to keep him from moaning.

Just as Luca slid a hand up his shirt, the door opened and the pair fell to the ground, Luca almost crushing Andrei’s spine against the door frame, glass rose in pieces and cutting into both their chests, drawing blood..

There, above them, stood a rather confused Alin, black bag in hand, presumably for the wheelie bin at the end of the garden.

“I can explain!” The pair exclaimed at the same time.


	20. TurkInd - Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was only one ship I could really do for this day.
> 
> Arjun- India

Sadik took a deep, lengthy breath before stepping forward.

This was it. His moment. His time to shine. And next to him, dressed in crimson and gold, petite with a straight back, jaw sharp and held high, was his dance partner, the infamous Arjun Kapur.

Well, he was infamous in their part of town as the head chef of the best damn Indian restaurant Sadik had ever known, and now the whole nation knew about him. About them. They cheered for them, tuned in for them, voted for them to keep them on the TV because they were just such great dancers and loved by many. They could just win the thing.

Sadik hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up, but here they were, in the final of ‘Pensioners Got Talent’ as the beloved dance duo ‘Hot ‘n Spicy’. They had seen off most of the competition now, wowed the judges and nation time and time again, and danced their rather knackered hearts out. In fact, the pair often joked that it was a miracle neither of them had had a heart attack yet, unlike the old sword-juggling Italian Grandpa who had to pull out for medical reasons back in week three.

There were only two other acts now, fire-dancer Yao and magician-come-comedian Arthur, both very popular, both tough competition.

He glanced over at Arjun, who glanced back, eyes twinkling. This was the moment they’d been working towards for so long. The dance of a lifetime. Who knows where they could go if they won this? Theatre? A world tour? He’d already began mentally writing the first few lines of his autobiography in his head.

The lights dimmed as all cameras focused on them, stock still in the shadows in the corner of the stage, and the first bars of the music reached his ears, a calm, slow start.

Sadik moved his arms like he’d practiced so many times before, coming towards the centre stage to meet Arjun, and as the music picked up, so did his legs and hips. The quick-pace movements of those slender hips almost sent Sadik to a complete standstill.

But he carried on.

When Sadik’s turn to really start moving came, he gave it his all, dancing like the lives of his entire family depended on it. Well, they did, in a way. What? He hadn’t exactly been working to earn money these past few months, so some sort of career after this would be ideal. Especially since he quit his last job in order to do this.

He stepped in-time with Arjun, like they were one, darting behind him as he twirled and kicked, moving his hands like they were water. Sadik could watch Arjun all day, but to actually dance alongside him was an even greater honour, he decided as he placed his hands on the other’s hips and swayed in time with him.

They did everything right.

Every step was perfect, every facial expression as they danced out a story for their audience, an audience they had rather forgotten were there at this point.

Then he stepped back slightly, swishing his hips as Arjun took centre stage, executing a series of perfect flips and somersaults, so light he might as well have been made of feathers. The beads and jewels sewn into his clothes shimmered in the spotlight, as did the excessive gold jewellery he wore, from earrings and a ruby necklace, to a collection of rings and ankle bangles. He skipped and twirled, almost flying off the stage completely.

And then it was Sadik’s turn. His movements were more jerky, in time to the base, unable to flip, his dance moves consisted more on the belly and arm work, throwing the judges a cheeky wink before the music stopped and they came to a halt with a bow and flourish.

Well it was out of their hands now.


	21. TurkLiech - Cooking/Baking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very glad I got this couple for today, and here they are having fun baking together. They’re so sweet together.
> 
> Elise- Liechtenstein

“So, baklava,” Elise stated to no one in particular, trying not to tremble under the weight of the instructions before her, and the list of ingredients, half of which she’d never heard of in her life. Elise thought herself to be a competent baker, but this was on a whole new level of scary. **  
**

Lucky for her, there was an expert right behind her.

“Baklava,” Sadik repeated, draping his chunky arms across her shoulders. “I know it looks complicated, but it’s really not bad. Just… long winded? Yes?”

Their family was coming round that evening, both families, for a get together to celebrate the couple’s one-year anniversary, but mostly to grill them on how they were, if things were going okay. That they weren’t having any problems. She supposed that was what happened when you date your cousin’s arch enemy. Who even had an arch enemy these days? Besides Roderich, of course. And Sadik. At least they tried to get along around her, Elise couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

Their kitchen had been decorated by Elise, and mostly filled by Sadik, with rows upon rows of ornate china plates displayed on the wall next to strings of garlic, peppers and onions. Pots and pans hung from above the window, surrounded by lacy pink curtains decorated with faint pictures of doves, a family heirloom of Elise’s, along with the tea set in the cabinet. The cooking stove was old and traditional. The chopping boards rustic and wooden. The kitchen tiles, too, had an old-fashioned air to them, like castle flagstones rather than vinyl, and covered in a large rug to make sure they were extra careful to not start any fires in here. Then again, the entire outside of their house was padded with wood for a folky effect, complete with thatch roof and ivy climbing up the walls. The kitchen was always warm, smelling of whatever they’d recently cooked or baked. Everything here was made from scratch.

“Yes,” she smiled, “we can do this. Together. And it’ll be so delicious too.”

“Have you not proved time and time again that anything your beautiful hands make is the most delicious food of all?” He punctuated that sentence by kissing her hands, soft and already tasting of orange. High praise from the self-proclaimed gourmet, and Elise couldn’t help flushing deeply.

“You flatter me,” she squeaked as he kissed the top of her head. “But I am not after flowery words, just flour and pastry.” Elise giggled at that.

“Oh of course,” Sadik boomed out a laugh at her joke. “But should we not perhaps start with the syrup?”

“Oh, okay!” Elise glanced down at the ingredients for said syrup, already resting in a little saucepan ready to be used, away from the ingredients for the baklava itself. Emptying them out, she then filled the saucepan with water and set it to simmer on a low heat. “So we just throw everything in?” she asked, “seems simple enough.”

“Of course,” with a wink and a flourish, Sadik set to work grating oranges as Elise added sugar and lemon juice before throwing in two sticks of cinnamon. ‘You can never have too much flavour’, Sadik told her as he added cloves too.

“If you say so,” replied Elise, somewhat skeptically, which was ignored.

“Now we just turn the heat up to get it nice and syrupy,” Sadik licked his lips at the thought; “now we just need to make the filling!”

…

One bowl of chopped nuts later, and it was time for the part Elise had been dreading.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” she whimpered.

“Of course you can,” Sadik kissed her floury cheek, “in fact, you’ll be better at it than me; my hands are big and rough, yours are small and dainty and perfect for handling delicate pastry.”

Elise sighed, deciding- begrudgingly- that Sadik had a point.

“Okay, but you have to talk me through this.”

“I will, don’t worry. I am here to help.” Another kiss. “I believe in you, Biedermann.”

And that was all the encouragement she needed. Like those few, simple words her brother would say to let her know she was smart and on the right track, to let her know he cared for her and would support her no matter what. She knew Sadik would guide her too, just enough, and let her make her own way when she was ready.

“You have used phyllo pastry before, right?” asked Sadik, unrolling the stuff from out of it’s packet, nicely defrosted and ready to use. For Elise’s first time, he relented and bought shop-bought pastry to lighten the load and give the girl some peace of mind, though it was tearing him up inside just having the stuff in the house.

“Of course,” Elise smiled.

“Then it should be no problem for you.”

“If you say so…”

“Look, just pick up one sheet at a time, brush it with butter, and add another layer. It’ll create one hell of a soggy bottom, aha.”

“Naughty.“ Elise flicked flour at his chest.

“Come on, show me what you got.“

“I can do this, yes.” So Elise set to work, the task itself proving simple- if dull- but made all the more tricky by Sadik’s arms around her waist, his nose buried in her neck as he whispered words of encouragement in her ear, stubble tickling. So much for him helping.

About halfway through, Sadik poured most of the nut filling onto the pastry, and Elise continued on piling and piling pasty and soaking them in butter. When they were done, Sadik sprinkled the last few nuts on top and drizzled the now-cooled syrup on top.

“Time to bake,” he said gleefully.

“It’ll taste delicious,” Elise added, watching him lift up the tray of goodness and place it carefully into the oven.

For a few moments, before they would have to wash up and get started on the second desert- baumkuchen- the couple just watched their baklava bake, like it was their child in a cradle, clutching each other’s hands and Sadik even let a tear fall down his cheek.

“So, I suppose we can’t just sit around all day,” sighed Elise.


	22. AusHun - In Battle, side-by-side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Blood, death
> 
> Notes: I didn’t want to research anything, so it’s a sorta fantasy human au with some steampunk elements. Some backstory, not much though, sorry. And sorry for… other things that happen in the fic.

At the roar of hundreds of marching feet, she moved to stand in front of him, sword raised to her chest. The battle was nowhere near them yet, but she didn’t want to be caught off guard, not when there were two lives she cared for at stake.

Lucky for her she wouldn’t have to dirty her hands with blood to protect the man behind her; unfortunately, though, robots were somewhat harder to kill than living beings. Roderich certainly wouldn’t be able to. It wasn’t that he wasn’t skilled enough or didn’t have it in him, rather his weapon- his trusty, ornate fencing foil- wasn’t built for tearing through metal, rather the outer fabric of protective clothing in a friendly, safe, spar.

That still didn’t stop him from taking offense to her protection though.

She only gave him time to snort his disapproval before sending a glare back in his direction. There wasn’t time to argue.

The robots were still on the outskirts of their village, mowing down anyone who tried escaping through the fields of barley, watering the crops with puddles of blood. They just kept marching, forwards and forwards, only stopping to kill. Their joints clanked. Their unseeing eyes scanned the carnage around them through their helmets. Steam billowed out behind them. The smoke was all around, giving them a far more sinister appearance as they marched out of the veil of mist. Even Érzsebét, who considered herself a force to be reckoned with, found her stomach sinking at the thought of actually fighting them.

But she would, to save Roderich.

Most of the villagers had fled or were fleeing, a selection hiding in their homes and even fewer staying to fight. But this was their home now, their livelihoods; how could they not fight for it and the people they’d lived alongside for years?

That being said, Érzsebét wished Roderich was safe and out of harm’s way, not here, not trying to fight a losing battle alongside her, probably looking to protect her too, as if he’d have a chance against these machines.

“Érzsebét,” began Roderich tentatively, “I don’t think you can fight them.” He was right, but if she admitted that then they’d lose all hope.

“Nonsense,” she scoffed, “we’ve been through worse.” Sure, they’d fought bigger armies, he the prince of a neighbouring kingdom forced into hiding by an uprising that took his parent’s lives, and she the bounty hunter who just couldn’t quite turn him in and see him die too. There were a lot of people out there after their blood, but at least they’d been people. Mortal, fragile, people. Not these metal monsters.

Érzsebét wrapped her furs tighter around her as the robots breached the village’s main defences: a wooden wall and shallow moat, absolutely useless. People screamed as they cut down everything in their paths, slipping into houses to finish off anyone hiding. Whole families were slain where they stood, and the iron army just kept marching.

Anyone who tried fighting them didn’t stand a chance, not even landing a blow before they were gone.

And it was all their fault.

Roderich and Érzsebét weren’t stupid; they knew this was yet another army sent to track them down and flush them out, and that these people were dying because of them.

For the first time in her life, Érzsebét wanted to turn and run, not to preserve her own life, but to keep the young prince safe. After all, he was his nation’s last hope. He was the one that would raise an army and take back what was his, she was certain of it.

But there was no way they could abandon this entire village and leave them all for dead. Not to mention, they were now surrounded.

With a fierce battle cry, Érzsebét charged forward, hurling her broadsword into the chest of the nearest robot.

It knocked her to the ground like she was a ragdoll.

Érzsebét could only let out a groan as the back of her head smashed against trodden earth, sword still buried in her assailant. It stepped on her chest, pinning her down and making sure she couldn’t escape. This was it. Time to die. The robot raised its sword, ready to swipe her head clean off, and she braced herself.

But the blow never came.

Of course. Of course Roderich would sacrifice himself. Of course he would pick what he considered the most noble way to die. If there was air in her lungs, she would’ve screamed as his chest was torn apart where he’d jumped into the sword’s path. To save her. Of course he would. He loved her more than anything else on earth.

And he didn’t just stop the sword, but his own was now spearing its neck, in between the fine plates that allowed for its movements. A chink in the armour. His sharp eyes found it in seconds.

Roderich let out a rasp as he fell to his knees, pushing the robot ever so gently so it fell backwards. Then he collapsed on top of Érzsebét.

The robots kept moving.

Of course, they weren’t very smart. All they could see was a lump on the ground, covered in blood. Dying. No point in investigating further.

And so the couple lay there, Érzsebét too in shock to think of getting up, of killing every damned robot now she knew how to. Not that she had a weapon anymore.

Roderich was cold as he lay there, silk shirt torn, clutching her hand as the clanks and screams around them grew more distant. He trembled, large hands clammy and pale in the moonlight, covered in glistening blood from where he’d held the gaping slash in his chest. The blood was on her furs and tunic now, in her hair, on the floor, a sea of red. Drowning them both. Roderich’s lips were white though.

Érzsebét didn’t want to waste time asking him why he did it- the reasoning was pretty obvious- neither did she want to spend his last moments chastising him for something she’d have done in his situation. So she told him she loved him. Something he knew, but it was worth repeating now more so than ever.

“I’m sorry,” Roderich muttered, eyes wild with fear.

“No, no, shush,” she soothed, stroking his hair and placing a kiss on his forehead. “You did wonderful. You’re so brave.”

Roderich smiled at that. Briefly. “I’m scared,” he whispered, “hold me, please.”

“Of course,” she choked on the lump in her throat, “of course.” She moved her arms to engulf his slender form, so small and fragile now.

“I’m so cold.”

“It will be over soon.”

“Please, can you… can you sing for me?”

“Not a problem.” Now that the robots were well out of earshot, she began muttering a lullaby, one her father used to sing for her when she was small and scared and having a rough night. A lullaby was good. It was to send Roderich on his way to sleep. Yes, sleep. If she could just let him believe he was only going to sleep.

His eyes were still before she’d finished the first verse.


	23. HuttMol - Arguing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: one huge unhealthy mess of a fight, mutually destructive relationship
> 
> Notes: This. Fucking. HURT. My poor babies why did I do this to you?
> 
> Mike- Molossia
> 
> Oscar- Hutt River

Okay, they’d argued before, and squabbled near constantly over the years- more so in the last month-, but this was something else altogether.

Every couple had their one or two colossal arguments, the ones that took days to forgive each other for, when things were said that would nearly shatter the relationship beyond all repair, but even they paled in comparison to this brutal, spiteful, shit-slinging fest he’d not seen the likes of since the months leading up to his parents’ divorce.

Mike ducked as a vase came straight for his head, smashing against the wall and spraying him with flowers and sticky water. It was one he’d bought for Oscar, he noted. At this moment, he couldn’t bring himself to form words, a defense, an argument, he didn’t know what to do.

All he knew was that he’d never seen Oscar this angry, this close to falling apart completely.

Tears streamed down his face and his words- insults- were garbled amongst hiccups and coughs, face blotchy and eyes red, torn between boring into Mike’s skull and glancing about the room, presumably to find something else of his to throw.

Time seemed to still as Mike just watched him, like he was a mere observer to all this, and not the apparent cause.

They’d been rocky for a good few weeks now, more arguments over pettier things, occasional fights where the bitterness lingered just that bit longer. Mike had kept more and more to himself, simply not being able to deal with the arguments that were sure to follow. Bottled it all up. And today, on what was supposed to be a nice break together, a little drive over to the next town to visit Oscar’s family for a lovely meal turned sour quickly when Mike made one or two quips and jokes at his partner’s expense. He hadn’t expected Oscar to take them to heart.

Of course, they couldn’t say anything in front of Oscar’s siblings, so Oscar bottled everything up, and let it all out in the car. What a pleasant journey that had been. It was a wonder the man hadn’t crashed the car, either deliberately or accidentally.

And things hadn’t let up once they were home. In fact, it was safe to say they’d gotten far worse.

Things got heated fast, and right now, everything he’d wanted to say for months was on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill at a moment’s notice.

“You’re just so…” Oscar groaned, “insensitive! You don’t seem to care about anyone’s feelings. About my feelings!”

“Well you’re one to talk,” Mike snapped back, finally joining in the argument, “you only care about yourself! So what if I made a few jokes? You’re always making your little snide fucking comments! About me! About everyone! Nothing anyone does is ever good enough for you!”

“Nothing  _you_  do is ever good enough for you!” shouted Oscar, “do you know how hard it is trying to make a relationship work with a guy who never talks to you?”

“I never talk because we just end up fighting!”

“Well why do you have to be so short tempered?”

“Why do you have to be so selfish?”

Mike ducked as an ornamental horse was thrown his way, shattering into tiny, spindly pieces.

“Oh right,” he rolled his eyes, “throw more of my stuff! And I’m the angry one, apparently.”

“Oh don’t try and take the high road with me!” Oscar laughed bitterly. “You’ve done it before! You can dish it but not take it!”

“I learnt from the best.”

“Oh fuck off!”

Oscar never swore. Mike, on the other hand, wasn’t sure there was any word left in his vocabulary that hadn’t been cheapened by too-frequent use to actually say here. There was cunt, but he abhorred the word too much to use.

“See?” he waved a hand, “this is what I mean! You can’t take anything, except dick!”

“Oh like you’re going to know anymore!” This time a pillow was thrown, and Mike let it hit him square in the chest.

“You’re so damn controlling,” he just screamed instead, “you superficial, manipulative little shit, just bossing people around and expecting us all to bend to your will like that, even though you’re too indecisive to know what you ever fucking want!” He snapped his fingers for good measure. It was all coming out now, everything he’d ever wanted to bring up was spilling out of his mouth and even if he wanted to stop himself, he wasn’t sure he could. He wanted to hurt Oscar. He wanted to crush that ego and see the man finally break under the force of his words.

Oscar snarled at that, lips drawn into a thin line, wobbling ever so slightly. Mike almost hated the rush of euphoria that came with the sight.

“Oh why don’t you go fuck yourself you freakish, two-faced bastard! Don’t you have some stupid ‘quirky’ hobby to be doing? You know, to appear more interesting and cope with whatever you’re too chicken-shit to talk about?” Oscar spat his words with bile, dripping with malice, maleficence, as his stuck-up self would call it. “Maybe if your family wasn’t so dysfunctional you wouldn’t be such a messed up cunt!”

And that was it. Mike saw a red he’d never known before, and was across the room before he could stop himself. It was with this blind rage that he grabbed Oscar’s collar, pinning him against the wall with such force that the other’s anger disappeared, replaced by a fear Mike swore long ago he’d never have to experience.

“Don’t fucking say that again,” he hissed, words growing increasingly louder until he was shouting in the other’s face, punctuating his sentences by repeatedly slamming him into the wall. “Don’t you ever fucking say that about me or my family again! You disgusting man! I hate you!” Oscar whimpered.

“Stop, please,” he trembled as he placed a hand on the other’s strong arms, “you’re hurting me. Please.”

Mike let go of Oscar like he was poisonous, punching the wall behind him to get the rest of his rage out before it consumed him. He backed away, shaking and feeling sick to his stomach. What the hell was that? Where had that come from? Mike didn’t use violence, not against living creatures, not… unprovoked… Was that really an excuse here though?

“I’m sorry… I’m sor-”

Oscar’s slap was hard and vicious, quick like a cat and catching the inside of Mike’s mouth on his teeth. The bitch! He didn’t say anything, but glared through his tears.

“Fuck you,” Mike spat, balling his fist and catching Oscar right in the jaw in retaliation. The man slid to the floor, too shocked to fight back. He clutched his cheek, swollen with a cut lip, staring up at the other fearfully.

Again, Mike had no idea where that had come from, that he had it in him to do such a thing. He’d always claimed to be a rough, tough bigman, but to actually strike someone this way? It wasn’t him. Oscar was the best in bringing out the worst in people, but he’d never for a second believed it would get to this stage.

Before anymore harm could come to either of them, Mike wheeled round and stumbled out of the room.

…

Oscar, it seemed, hadn’t moved from the sitting room.

He chewed at a thumbnail, curled up on himself on the sofa, as Mike reentered the room, not seeming to notice him as he clutched one of the cushions to his chest. He just stared at the wall, face caked in dry tears. The room was still a mess, broken glass and china and various possessions strewn across the floor, and broken furniture that Mike assumed Oscar had destroyed after he’d left the room. The fireplace was empty and cold, all too much like the air between them.

The bruise was still clear against his skin, and Mike’s cheek still stung.

Mike set down his little travelbag, coughing awkwardly. The moment he’d calmed down, he’d started packing, texting his brother to get the spare room ready.

“Look,” he began, hating how Oscar flinched at his voice, “I suppose this is the sign that things aren’t working out, huh?” They probably could’ve figured that out weeks ago, if they’d cared to actually look.

Oscar nodded, thumb still at his mouth.

“I mean, well, if we’re laying into each other like that, smashing stuff, saying these things about each other… that ain’t healthy.” He remembered when he told Oscar that he loved him, that he would protect and cherish him til his dying breath.

“No shit,” mumbled Oscar.

“This is when you know things gotta end. We’re… we’re not good for each other. I’m not sure we were ever compatible, and we can’t just stay trapped in this loveless relationship tearing each other apart until one of us offs the other or something.”

“It’s not loveless,” Oscar blurted out in a mutter, and Mike just couldn’t bring himself to look the other in the eye.

“It’s over,” he whispered. “I can’t believe this, but it’s over.”

He picked up his travel bag again, to distract him from the tears springing back up in Oscar’s eyes. Yes, he was upset about this too, but was the end of their relationship going to be such a loss at this point? Then again, he wasn’t very good at crying in front of others, preferring to bottle his emotions until they exploded. No wonder this hadn’t lasted…

“No,” Oscar moaned, “please…”

“Don’t,” Mike turned to the door, “just don’t.”

“No wait,” Oscar was scrambling up now, but not daring to get too close, “please don’t leave. You can’t! I’m sorry! I love you! We can work something out.”

“We’re done,” Mike growled, “don’t make this hard, okay? We can’t be together and you know damn well we don’t belong together. Look, I’m going; don’t try and contact me. I’ll have my brother pick up my stuff sometime, assuming you don’t smash it all in the meantime.”

“Look, let’s give each other time, okay? I understand. We need to be away from each other for a bit, but we can talk about this, please.” He reached out and clutched Mike’s sleeve, but he just yanked his arm away.

“Goodbye and good riddance,” he muttered before walking out the door.


	24. RoBul - Making Up Afterwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, not a followup to yesterday’s. I’m upset with how short everything for this pairing turned out.

Tsvetan was almost timid as Alin opened the door to him, an oversized bouquet of roses stretched out before him and an apologetic grin on his stupid, stupid face. Alin hated how his heart flipped at the sight.

Alin almost considered shutting the door in said stupid face. He didn’t want to talk, not yet. After everything the man did… He was still so, so angry, seething; his hands trembled as pure rage pumped through the vessels of his arms. Of course, the sight of Tsvetan still sent shivers and sparks up his spine, and probably always would.

So this is what it was like to hate and love someone at the same time? He hated and loved the feeling.

As if sensing his very thoughts, Tsvetan stuck a foot in the doorway and began speaking, shoving the roses into Alin’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” he garbled, “look, you must know I didn’t mean it. I love you, always have. Please,” he glanced over at the other, palms sweaty, eyes desperate, “you have to believe me, you’re the only one I care about.”

“I thought I knew that,” Alin sighed, stroking the roses with his long fingers. “Once.”

“Look, what happened didn’t mean anything. Not a thing! You’re the only one who matters to me! I love you!” He moved forward to land a kiss on Alin’s lips, but the latter turned his head.

“Don’t you try that with me, Borisov.”

“Please,” he whispered against Alin’s chin, “I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.”

Alin shuddered, storming into the sitting room despite knowing full well Tsvetan would follow. The bastard was already in his house and didn’t seem intent on leaving anytime soon.

“This place hasn’t changed much,” he commented, looking around the room wistfully.

“Well you’ve only been gone six days,” Alin replied dryly, sitting on the sofa, arms folded and legs crossed, booted foot primed to kick him if he came too close. He threw the roses on the floor, knowing he’d lovingly place them in a vase the moment the other was gone.

“It felt like longer,” mumbled Tsvetan.

“What? Like a week?” Alin scoffed at that.

“Look, I really miss you!” Tsvetan moved to embrace him, but Alin held him away with his foot.

“Don’t touch me. I bleed inside.”

“Please, can we just start over?” He got on his knees, hands clasped together. “I love you, Alin Radacanu.”

He did want to forgive Tsvetan, he really did, but after everything the man had done? Well, he just wasn’t sure he could be trusted.

“Do you at least have the guts to admit what you did? Why you’re as sorry as you claim to be?”

Tsvetan sighed. “I’m sorry I said astrology was bullshit and for gullible idiots. It was insensitive of me.”


	25. LadKug - Gazing into Each Other's Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this piece of shit is all I have to offer for this ship. What a lousy prompt.
> 
> Franz- Kugelmugel
> 
> Lars- Ladonia

Franz was looking more and more like his mother each day.

At least, that is the conclusion Lars came to as he noticed the green specs dotted in those wide, violet irises of his. He was a real mixture of Roderich and Érzsebét Edelstein, that was for sure. He had the steely determination of Érzsebét all around his eyes, that long half-smile that told everyone there was no point in getting in his way; on the other hand, his eyes were as sharp and piercing as his father’s, lips round and soft with a slightly upturned, pointed nose, giving away his aristocratic heritage. He had the deathly-pale complexion of his father, and his mother’s heart-shape face.

Franz had an intense stare. Bags had formed under his eyes, which Lars could very well guess meant another sleepless night working away at a project until it was done to his impossibly high standards, or thrown away in a blind fit of rage.

Lars liked keeping the projects he could salvage from Franz’s bin, hidden away from the other’s astute glare in a little shrine under his bed. He loved everything the other boy made, regardless of whether it was good enough for Franz’s perfectionist mind.

As they sipped their coffees in silence, he wondered what the other boy was thinking of.

…

Lars probably wouldn’t appreciate it if he pointed out just how much he was looking like his Papa.

He was though, and not just because of the glasses he’d recently acquired- due to spending far too much time in front of computer and phones screens- but the glare in his eyes as he focused on something he felt needed focusing on, usually a game or digital drawing, right now Franz himself. It was quite an intense stare, and had they not been on a date, he might have quivered before that glare, like so many had done to the boy’s father. The colour, a royal blue, he couldn’t quite place with either parent though.

His face was round, like Tino’s. He had yet to lose the baby fat around it, and Franz had to wonder, when that happened, would his face become long and chiseled like Berwald’s? He tried to imagine it, but the idea was too weird.

Lars was paler than most of his family, and Franz too, spending so much time inside on his computer. In fact, the glare of a screen was probably the only thing keeping him from becoming paperwhite. Franz could see the blue veins pulsing under his skin. The only other dash of colour to his face was the blue strip of paint, the poorly-convincing scar. Because Lars needed to come across as tougher than he was, for whatever reason.

Lars’ bravado was something Franz would never understand, but he’d long accepted it about the boy.

He was willing to accept everything about Lars.


	26. IndChu - Getting Married

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I’d drawn these prompts now dammit.
> 
> Arjun- India
> 
> Xiang- Hong Kong
> 
> Mei- Taiwan
> 
> Cheng- Macau

Yao wondered if his almost-husband felt heavy under the weight of his clothes too, with the ornaments and jewellery and turban dripping with beads. He knew his own headpiece was making his neck hurt, not that he honestly cared on the happiest day of his life. Their lives. Given their collective age of one hundred and thirty, that was really saying something. Yao honestly couldn’t be more overjoyed, finally about to start married life with Arjun after forty long years waiting, largely in secret.

Both their families were here for the ceremony, Yao’s little siblings having been convinced that today wouldn’t be boring and stuffy and there were two whole banquets in it for them: one in the town hall where they were gathering after the ceremony, and one back at their new home, their first meal as husband and husband.

The three had dressed spectacularly for the occasion though; he had to commend them. Even little Xiang had squeezed into his best suit begrudgingly, standing in between Mei and Cheng and looking anywhere but at his brother at the front of the temple.

Arjun’s numerous friends and relatives were there too, some mutuals and some Yao wasn’t too familiar with. Their friend Ivan was there, of course, dwarfing the crowd as he wiped back a tear, clutching Arjun’s step-brother Arthur for support. Both their parents were long dead, but Arjun’s many cousins, siblings, nieces and nephews still filled the room with bright smiles and colours.

They’d both arrived by procession, and would leave by procession to their home, one Indian one, and one Chinese one to celebrate both their nationalities. The two of them had planned this wedding hard, to accommodate both sets of traditions.

Right now, their clothes were tied together as they walked around a fire, the Agni, as Arjun recited his vows, the long form of them, the Saptapadi. He was speaking in sanskrit, something Yao had no proficiency in, but he knew what the other man was saying. How he vowed to consult him, love only him, to earn for him, to trust him. They’d been altered slightly, as Arjun was not saying these to his wife, but his husband.

Yao gave his own vows in mandarin to compliment Arjun’s, strengthen them. Together, they would look after their home, even if it was too late to raise a family.

And on that final, seventh vow, they stood together as husband and husband at last.


	27. UkrMon - On one of their Birthdays

“Morning,” Katya whispered softly in her ear, voice a song, a chirp, always succeeding in waking her girlfriend up in the most pleasant of moods.

And so, Monique was brought into the world of the awake with a gentle hand, almost lulled from the world of dreams on a fluffy cloud, as fluffy as the bed she found herself in, wrapped up snuggly under piles and piles of blankets and quilts Katya had made for her to get her through the cold winter months, and the morning of her birthday brought no exception to the weather. Ukraine wasn’t even as cold as some of the places she’d been to, but then again, she not stayed in those places long, mostly weekends before moving on. The couple planned to move back to her home country of Monaco sometime soon though. She couldn’t wait.

But, on this cold morning in Kiev, she was perfectly happy as she snuggled deeper into her blanket landslide, whining playfully as Katya plopped down beside her, jiggling the bed and careful not to spill the coffee and pancakes she’d prepared for breakfast.

“Oh a good morning indeed, my dear,” she muttered into her pillow. Monique had long since moved past the point of maintaining her image around Katya, accepting that her girlfriend knew her hair got messy and frizzy in the mornings, and she looked rather plainer without her layer of makeup. But hey, at least she didn’t have to sneak out of bed an hour early to keep up the image of unrelenting fabulousness anymore. Like Katya even believed she’d woken up like that anyway.

Katya’s shorter hair was sticking up all over the place, and she was still in her warm dressing gown and pyjamas. When Monique wiggled over to snuggle up to her, she was playfully slapped away.

“Sit up and eat your breakfast,” she chided.

“But I am frightfully cold,” moaned Monique.

“Then sit up so I can cuddle you,” Katya rolled her eyes, “plus, this lovely warm coffee will help you.”

“I suppose;” so Monique pulled herself up and snuggled right up to her girlfriend, Katya throwing an arm around her and almost spilling the coffee pot in the process.

“These look delicious,” Monique commented, pulling the tray onto her lap and licking her lips, “you spoil me, you really do.”

“No,  _you_  spoil  _me_ ,” Katya jokingly prodded her shoulder.

Monique began to eat, cutting her pancakes into little bites before eating. “They  _are_  delicious. So, what do you have planned for us today?”

Katya wiggled excitedly. “Well, today we will take things easy. We will stay in our pyjamas. We will sit by the fire. Maybe we will make love by the fire.”

“Sounds lovely;” Monique gave a smile.

“And then,” there was a gleam in her eye as Katya spoke, “we will get dressed up, go to a casino, and you can play cards all night long, if you want, and win us both lots of money.”


	28. LuxMold - Doing Something Ridiculous

Andrei couldn’t help the smug grin on his face as the other scowled at him from across the table, a friend of a friend he was currently beating in beer pong by a landslide. The poor boy could hold his liquor well, but bloody hell was he an awful shot, arms like a flailing octopus.

Most of his cups had been drained now, thanks to Andrei’s keen eye and throwing hand, but Luca was still holding on, not ready to concede defeat just yet. In fact, the incentive to not give up had landed him a few shots on target, and Andrei was glad to finally enjoy the taste of alcohol, even if it was pissweak beer that did absolutely nothing to get him drunk. It hadn’t seemed to have affected the other boy either.

Well, at least their little game had succeeded in making this rather dead college party all the more exciting, for themselves and a few spectators, because Andrei hardly knew anyone here, and most of the other partygoers were a little too busy dancing or disappearing upstairs to talk to a little high school kid who was only here to say he’d been to one of these parties. Oh, and his brother was busy trying to summon a demon with his weird friends in his basement. Again.

Luca drained yet another cup, his penultimate. One more throw, and Andrei would have beaten him once and for all. Luca’s only hope was that Andrei missed every shot until he’d succeeded in catching up, but that was highly unlikely to happen.

But that didn’t seem to be stopping him, so Luca aimed, tongue sticking out ever so slightly, and threw the coin with a dainty flick of the wrist.

The coin bounced off the table, right into Andrei’s eye.

Holy fires of hell did it hurt! Andrei screamed as he doubled over, clutching his eye socket as the numerous spectators rushed to see if he was okay, so drunk they’d convinced themselves the boy was dying. None thought to phone for an ambulance though.

“Oh my gosh!” cried Luca, kneeling beside him, hands flapping above his head like he didn’t know what to do, “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“It hurts,” Andrei whined. The crowd was disorientating him. He couldn’t breathe. The pain in his eye made his head swim and it was impossible to think straight.

“Give the kid some air,” growled Luca, pushing people away as he hoisted up Andrei and led him, by the elbow, into the garden.

It was way cooler out here, the air hitting Andrei like the relief of a fan on a hot summer day. The party was still going on outside, with drunk teens crowded into a raised swimming pool in a way that was sure to be dangerous, but he wasn’t too fussed right now. Who swam outside in October anyway? Idiots. More people were dancing and talking aimlessly on the grass, a few throwing up in the flowerbeds.

Luca fetched a blanket from one of the unoccupied deck chairs and wrapped it around Andrei’s shoulders as the boy settled down on the edge of the decking, boots dangling over into the grass. He still clutched his eye, which watered and streaked down his cheek, and he sobbed pitifully as the other rubbed his shoulders.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“Do I look better to you?” Andrei whimpered, though he had to admit the pain was slowly fading. Slowly.

“Well, no, not really,” Luca shrugged apologetically, “I am terribly sorry though.”

“I know. It’s fine.” Andrei finally took his hand away to throw the other a smile, “my you’re a rubbish throw. Lucky you’re a better drinker, huh?”

“Oh, naturally,” Luca fluttered his long lashes, “does this… does this mean I win though?”

“Absolutely not.”


	29. SeaWy - Doing Something Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought them two playing pirates would be really cute. But it turned more into Sea trolling Lad.

“But why do I have to be the guy that walks the plank?” whined Lars

“Because I’m Calico Jack, and Charlie’s Anne Bonny,” replied Peter matter-of-factly, pointing his wooden sword at his little brother’s chest. “So get walking.”

Charlie leapt in front of him, poking and prodding the youngest member of their trio with her own sword for good measure. Lars wailed and swiped it away.

“Stop it,” he whinged, “leave me alone.”

“We’re pirates,” Charlie replied flatly, “we’re not meant to be nice.”

“Maybe you could be nice pirates?” tried Lars. The little six year old was standing with his heels dangling over the edge of the little pond in the local park, doing literally anything he could not to end up in it. Again. It was late autumn and he’d have to walk home with his coat and trousers soaked and freezing. Again. He might get a cold.  _Again_.

“I don’t think you understand how being a pirate works,” sighed Peter.

“Shut up! I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You cut the horns off my viking helmet,” Peter told him, “now you are sentenced to walk the plank.”

“Viking helmets didn’t have horns!”

“And pirates aren’t nice!”

“They didn’t make people walk the plank either,” Lars folded his arms with a huff.

“Well… I’d get in trouble if we keelhauled you instead,” reasoned Peter.

“You’re going to get in trouble for this, because I’m telling papa!”

Ah yes. The very line that struck fear into the heart of every child, even fierce pirates.

“Don’t,” Peter whined, “I promise I’ll buy you sweets on the way home.”

“And will you let me be captain next?” Lars glared at the other two, wobbling slightly.

“What do you say?” asked Charlie.

“I say we let him!” Peter exclaimed before pushing his brother into the pond.

Lars fell with a wail, swallowing a good mouthful of pond water before resurfacing with a splutter. His arms flapped as he climbed out of the- thankfully- shallow pond.

“My turn! My turn!” he was almost giddy with excitement. “I’m the captain and I’m gonna make you walk the plank!”

“Oh really?” Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not showing very good leadership qualities,” Peter sniffed, “that doesn’t make you a good captain. In fact… we might just have a mutiny.” He thrust his sword at his brother once more.

“What? Oh come on!”

Charlie grinned. “And now we have you surrounded, d’ya know what we’re gonna do?”

“What?” whimpered Lars.

The pair spoke at the same time: “make you walk the plank!”

“Why this?”


	30. LuxCy - Doing something hot

He started doing press ups the moment his shirt was off. **  
**

Of course he did. Why would he expect anything else with Stelios Angelopoulos?

Yes, Luca thought the view was very nice indeed, tanned skin and stringy muscles, every mole and freckle visible, if slicked with sweat. He eyed the perky pecs and thick calves, covered in dark hair, the man’s usual lopsided smile replaced with a determined grimace. Had Luca been his sister, he might’ve said Stelios was ‘yum’.

He could’ve done without having to see Stelios’ garish, ugly swimming trunks though, and had they been somewhere a bit more private, he’d have demanded the man take them off too. Maybe they should find somewhere private anyway, because this tourist trap they’d found themselves at was absolutely packed to the brim with irritating holidaymakers. Luca was a people person, honestly, but there was only so many times he could have a ball fly into his groin or sand kicked into his face before he lost the plot completely. Not that Stelios cared. He just wanted an audience to show off to. Yum.

And to think, he was so shy and sweet around Luca.

Well, in most ways, Luca noted with a blush.

 _Yum_.

He just lay back on his beach towel, staring at the sea through his sunglasses and chancing the occasional glance back at his boyfriend. Stelios was still going, fairplay to him. Most glances were caught, acknowledged with a wink, often shared with those who were also watching, just because Luca got so cute when he was jealous.

With a huff, Luca turned back to his book, feeling the sun on his stomach and wondering if he’d be sunburnt all over, save for a shadow shaped like two lines and a rectangle. Luca was wearing factor 30, but it wouldn’t last for long. Luca himself had opted for clothes of the more loose and silky variety: a discarded shirt, and shorts far more pleasing to the eye than… other individuals’. Lilac and beige, classy and summery.

After a while, his arms began to ache, and he took off his glasses, resting his story on his chest to chance another glance. Stelios was now lying on his stomach, looking rather exhausted.

“Well that was worth it,” he mumbled grumpily; “you weren’t even watching.”

“I am trying to relax,” Luca replied with a smirk.

Stelios wiggled closer, hot body pressing up against him. “Oh? We haven’t done enough relaxing already?”

“No.”

“How can you even relax here?” he asked.

Luca gritted his teeth just thinking about it. “With great difficulty.”

“Is that aimed at me or everyone else?”

“Everyone else, dear.” And at that moment, another ball flew over their heads, the tiniest clumps of sand falling into his eyes.

“Oh… blast! Oh mercy! Oh… oh… fucking shit!”

“Are you okay?” Stelios stroked his hair, Luca swatting his hand away.

“No, oh God, please just take me home. I can’t stand being here anymore.” He rubbed his eyes vigorously, but all that did was cause him pain like he’d never known on his face before. His screams alerted people all the way down in the sea.

“Wait, wait, stop!” Stelios fumbled for a bottle of water in their picnic basket, “here, let me help you.” And so he held Luca down, pouring water into his eyes to flush out the sand, and only half-succeeding.

“Can we please go home?” whined Luca. This beach was awful and he just wanted out.

“Or we could go somewhere just as private?”

…

Okay, this beach was far better, and Luca had to wonder why Stelios didn’t just bring them here in the first place. It was rocky, not much in the way of sand, but oh so secluded. The couple were hidden under the shade of a cliff, on a shelf of rocks just above the sea, baby blue and turquoise mixed with greens and shimmering white on the surface, the sun finally beginning to dip over to the west. Yum.

“This place is beautiful,” he whispered, “why did you never show me this before?” The sting in his eyes was finally subsiding, and at long last he could look around him at all the beauty of this island, and not at the hundreds of near-accidents Stelios had caused driving here.

Stelios wrapped a hand around his waist, blushing to the tips of his ears and smiling into his boyfriend’s neck.

“Look, I wanted this to be a special place. I… wanted to confess something here, on this very spot, in the most beautiful place I know, to you, the most beautiful person I know.”

“Oh?” Luca blushed, “and what would that be?”

The answer was a kiss, slow, gentle, deepening with each passing moment. Luca’s world melted away, the sea breeze and crashing of waves, all gone as his reality was filled by Stelios. His orange scent, the one lock of hair that tickled his cheek. How his slightly taller figure had to stoop to meet Luca’s soft lips. It was pure bliss.

All too soon, Stelios pulled away, smiling sweetly.

“That I love you, Morgens.”


	31. HuttMol - Naked Cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting straight out of one long, exhausting OTP challenge and straight into another, because I like to suffer. Now, this one is the NSFW OTP challenge, so is nudie, rudie, and not for kids or workplace computers. I changed around a few of the prompts for fun too. 
> 
> Now, about this one. It’s pretty tame which is a good start, right? Nothing to warn yous about except the nakedness. Most of these fills involve nakedness though.

This weather was going to be the end of him. Hell, the fiery apocalypse would probably bring with it a nice cooling breeze at this point. Just what was wrong with this country and why the hell had he let his other half convince him to actually live here?

Mike had come from a desert, Nevada born and raised, but nothing he’d experienced came close to the eye-watering, butt-sweating, lose-all-will-to-function-and-just-melt mess that was an Australian summer heatwave. He was going to die. He would finally do what his friends had predicted all these years: he would melt into a puddle of rage and sweat. He hoped Oscar wouldn’t mind melted boyfriend all over his couch.

And to think, Christmas was coming and he wasn’t sure he’d survive as a solid long enough to experience it.

How the Australian could actually go out to work in this weather was beyond him, doing hard labour out in the field, and Mike almost felt guilty for faking a cold that morning. But he’d lived here most of his life, Mike supposed, and knew how to handle himself.

The weather had been lovely and hot these past few weeks, but this weekend things had turned horrible, and Mike had resorted to drastic measures to stay cool, glad there was no one home to see him, and judge him. And if there was, they’d just have to suck it. The situation, that is…

And that was why, when Oscar finally came in from the fields, he was confronted with the sight of Mike, stark naked, all the electric fans they owned concentrated on his sweaty body as he caught up on Australian masterchef. Productive day, then…

“I take it your cold’s gone,” he commented, eliciting a tiny yelp and jump from the other. Mike had to grab the back of the couch to stop himself from falling off.

“Fucking hell, you’re back early!” He glanced over to find Oscar, sunburnt, soaked with sweat and without a shirt for once. He never exposed his nipples in public, or anywhere, and Mike had to guess the heat had gotten the better of him and he’d decided to chance it out in their big lonely fields.

“It’s too hot to work,” Oscar whined, wiping his forehead with an arm.

Mike took the opportunity to just drink in the view: the lean, toned body; the golden tan- now red and slightly blistered; the curly hair that was an absolute mess from the humidity and heat, as if he’d never even bothered with it that morning. Mike loved how he looked, especially now, so unlike his preemed and proper usual self. He urged himself to take a mental picture of the moment.

“You don’t look too pleased to see me,” Oscar commented as he crossed the room, eyebrows raised as he peered over the chair.

“Give it a few minutes,” Mike grumbled.

“So how exactly is this helping with the heat?” asked Oscar, “just blowing the hot air around?”

“Well, not having clothes helps.”

“Does it really?” he smirked at that.

“Yeah. I’d tell you tell you to try it, since you’re halfway there, but would you really?”

Oscar sniffed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you hate nudity?” Mike smirked, “Christ, we’ve never done it except under the covers.”

“Hmph.”

“You’re disagreeing?”

With a pout, Oscar removed his dusty jeans, tossing them to the floor and throwing his arms wide. “Happy?”

“Your underwear is still on,” Mike commented.

“Alright, just give me a moment.”

He glanced down, trying his best to ignore Mike’s piercing glare. Well, he was  _sure_  helping.

“Stop looking at me,” he snapped. With a shrug, Mike turned back to the TV. He heard the rustle of fabric as Oscar’s briefs dropped to the floor, and the couch rocked as he climbed over the back.

“Happy?” asked Oscar as he snuggled on top of his boyfriend, Mike overwhelmed in a blanket of heat not entirely from the other man.

“Sure. But can you budge over?”

“No.” Oscar hummed as he nuzzled his head against Mike’s chest. “I’m comfortable here, very much so.”

“Good for you.”

And Mike was back to almost melting. He thought he would for real this time, under the bony form of this lanky twat, although he was incredibly soft. Oscar took care of his skin, and as such felt like melted butter. The problem was Mike wasn’t interested in being slathered in melted butter.

“You’re very squishy,” Oscar mumbled, “in a good way. This is really relaxing.”

“Good for you; now fucking budge over.”


	32. EstUkr - Naked Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nudity, sexual references
> 
> Notes: I wanted to do something sweet and romantic for these two, and took inspiration from otpprompts. This was so long though and I’m already exhausted by these prompts… on day two of all things.

Katya’s lip wobbled as she stared in the mirror, and she feared she would burst into a fresh round of tears at the sight that glared back at her.

She’d been crying on and off all afternoon now, sat on her bed poking and prodding at her stomach and breasts, running a hand over the stretch marks and cellulite on her thighs and her wibble wobble belly, as her siblings had called it as children. Back then it was cute, now the words mocked her cruelly, along with every other little quip and jab she’d heard in her life, all resurfacing out of nowhere to tear her confidence apart bit by bit.

Why did she even bother to keep a mirror in her room? The reflection never did anything to brighten her mood, and it wasn’t like she was improving in looks at all. Not getting any prettier, or thinner, or anything really.

And just like that, she was crying again. Katya had assumed all her tears had dried up already, but no, the thought of the names other kids at her school had told her still rang in her ears after all this time. Exes who said she just wasn’t as attractive to them as they’d thought. It usually involved her breasts not being as sexy outside of her blouses and bras, nipples too big, tits too saggy, she was starting to believe them now. Sex with all her previous partners had been humiliating in some way: if they didn’t mind the hair she never bothered to shave, then they’d have a problem with the noises she made and her tendency to tear up. Little did they know the only emotions she felt during those times were regret and insecurity, never love.

And now it was to happen again.

She always told herself Eduard was different. He was sweet, kind, a proper gentleman, so awkward and emotionally repressed, a man who knew his way around a hard drive better than the human body. But he was also incredibly intelligent, delightfully so. He had a wit as sharp as his fringe, a wonderful way with words, and an ability to pick up languages at an alarming speed, which he demonstrated by serenading her in her mother tongue.

She thought he was absolutely perfect, and as such, didn’t want to lose him.

And she would lose him if he saw her naked.

The subject of sleeping together had not been broached by her because of that, and he’d only recently brought it up, tentatively, rather embarrassed with a blush to his face. Eduard was incredibly awkward so.

She’d put it off, told him she wasn’t ready, and he was patient. He understood. She wasn’t sure to tell him, however, that she may never be ready. For him to leave her? No way.

Katya didn’t want to believe Eduard would. She told herself he was his own person, different from the others, and that was why she loved him. But what if he wasn’t? What if he no longer found her attractive afterwards? What if they grew apart and eventually broke up? What the hell was she supposed to do then, when her confidence was shattered forever?

She cried harder at the thought. She would lose him.

Katya curled into a ball, just to get that reflection of hers out of sight for two seconds. God, she was so ugly when she cried. And Eduard, as lovely as he was, would think the same, right? He’d not actually seen her cry yet, and they’d been together for six months now. That was something spectacular when it came to her. But why was she so pathetic in the first place?

“Kat?”

Katya shrieked, jumping up and turning around, wrapping her arms around her to cover herself. She glanced back to find Eduard awkwardly looking at the ground.

“What are you doing here?”

“You gave me a key,” he mumbled; “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Could you pass me my dressing gown, please?” The sooner she was covered, the sooner she could get about discreetly wiping her eyes. Luckily Eduard wasn’t rude enough to take a peek.

“Of course, dear,” Eduard fumbled blindly at the back of the door until he’d grabbed her dressing gown, throwing it to her without looking. To her amazement, she caught it.

Once robed, Katya set to wiping her eyes, still refusing to turn around.

“What’s wrong?” asked Eduard softly.

“Nothing.”

“I’m not an idiot. Really, maybe I can help?” There was a pause. “Did someone hurt you? I’ll… I’ll kick his butt!”

Katya hated herself for laughing; it was cruel of her. Eduard smiled though.

“Glad that cheered you up, at least.” He moved forward, sinking onto the bed and walking across on his knees, reaching out for her. “But seriously, what’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“It’s stupid;” Katya moved away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, nothing is stupid where you’re concerned,” he almost buckled saying that, like he was scared of coming across as too cheesy. “Come on, it’s good to share.”

“You never share,” Katya mumbled.

“I’m emotionally stunted that doesn’t count.”

Another laugh.

“Hey don’t think you’ve gotten out of this just get,” Eduard pulled himself up, making a tickling gesture, “come on, talk to me!”

“Ah get away!” Katya shrieked as she darted away, “don’t tickle me!”

“Why not?” He grabbed her waist, smothering her cheeks in kisses. “Come on. I won’t… judge.”

The pair fell silent, Eduard gazing awkwardly into her eyes before planting another kiss on her jaw, slow and wet. He placed another on her neck and she burst into tears.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” he sat her down on the edge of the bed, wiping her tears and brushing her fringe, “please, please tell me.” He knelt before her, gazing up in concern, yearning to know what he could do to help.

“But it’s so… so stupid,” she wailed, “I was just looking in the mirror, and-”

“Say no more,” Eduard muttered with a laugh.

“Excuse me?” Katya pulled away, glaring at him through blotchy eyes. So he really was no different then? Perfect, wasn’t that just wonderful?

Eduard’s eyes widened as his brain processed what had just happened. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant. I meant I understand what it’s like to look in the mirror and…” he pulled a face. “I wish I was stronger and better looking, but I can’t understand why someone as beautiful as you would ever… you’re perfect.”

“You’ve never seen me naked,” Katya muttered.

“Well you looked okay when I came in,” he bashfully replied, “not that I was gawking or anything. And- and the parts of you I do… see are very beautiful.”

“If you got a good look you would not be saying that,” sobbed Katya.

Eduard decided not to mention a good look would make him very happy indeed.

“I bet you’re wrong,” he said instead.

“I am right.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I know, Vynnychenko,” he insisted, “trust me, I have seen five women naked. Not including on the internet. You are the most beautiful, and you have such a wonderful personality too.”

“You think I’m more beautiful… than the women in pornography?” Katya raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a high compliment; they’re stunning!”

“ _Eduard_.”

“But seriously,” he was bright red now, “Katya, you’re beautiful, and I don’t know who told you otherwise, but they’re an idiot.”

“It was many people. In bed.”

“They’re idiots.”

“I’m an idiot. And that is why I can’t sleep with you.” She groaned. “You will hate me too.”

“That’s a low opinion to have of someone,” Eduard sighed, “I would never. I don’t care what you look like, you’re perfect to me.”

“Oh yes?” Katya shot up, lip wobbling, “so you’re telling me that, if I dropped this robe, you would not think I’m ugly?”

“You have my word, as… as a man of science.”

“We shall see.”

So she stood up and let the dressing gown fall to the floor, feeling more exposed than she had in her entire life. No one else that had come before mattered now, just what Eduard would make of her.

Eduard’s mouth dropped open, and he didn’t bother to close it as he stared, rather intently too. Somehow, he’d managed to turn a shade of maroon as his glasses steamed up.

“Wow,” he wheezed.

“You hate it?” Katya’s lip wobbled.

“No, not at all,” he stood up, placing his hands on her arms, “like I said, you’re beautiful, and anyone who told you otherwise was an idiot. In fact, tell me who they are and I’ll fight them.”

He pouted slightly at Katya’s laugh. “Well, I’m glad I’m cheering you up, honey, but I  _was_  being serious.”

“Sorry,” she couldn’t stop smiling though.

“Look, I’ll show you how much I love you, and how much you deserve to be loved.” And then he kissed her. He kissed her with more passion than anything he’d done in his life: every movement, every touch dedicated to showing Katya the love she deserved. He held her close, tender and careful, like she was the fine gold wiring in a laptop, the most precious being he knew.

“Here, relax,” he led her to the bed and pushed her on her back, gentle as he crawled next to her and kissed her shoulder. And her neck. Eduard moved to her breasts to smother them in kisses, and Katya smiled at the touch. It felt lovely, if oh so odd. She wasn’t used to someone being so tender with her, and all the attention.

“I feel rather exposed,” she admitted.

“Would you rather I join you?” offered Eduard.

“Yes please, I mean, I would like to see… you. All of you.”

“That’s a first,” Eduard muttered, removing his shirt. Katya reached out a hand to brush his stomach, sitting up to kiss his chest.

“Looking good so far,” she muttered.

“Maybe I should keep the boxers on,” he squeaked as he removed his trousers. “I’m… fairly average but I don’t know what you’re used to- I mean, compared with the rest of Eastern Euro-”

“ _Ed_ ,” Katya chided, “I don’t care. You’re the only one I want.”

He gave a toothy grin, still hesitating before the underwear was off too and thrown on the floor. He tried to reposition his legs to cover himself, but Katya stopped him.

“You look fine,” she assured him, pulling him close to her; “now where were we?”

“Having the night of your life,” Eduard pushed her back, refusing to even let her lift a finger or worry as he kissed her all over, whispering why each part of her was beautiful. He caressed her thighs. He trailed kisses up and down her belly. He stroked her hair as he gazed into her eyes, letting his heart out for once as he told her everything he’d been too scared to say before, understanding now that she needed to hear them as much as he needed to say them. His lips were rough, and tickled her in places, but that just added to the fun of it. Nowhere was safe from his kisses.

By the time the night was over and things had become more than a little sensual, she was crying once more, this time out of pure joy and bliss and love. Everything was going to be just fine.


	33. LuxCy - First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I keep writing this pairing? Any shippers out there? Anyone? Come aboard this ship we have… next to nothing so far. But it’ll be fun. Yeah this ended up being six pages, don’t know how but it’s messed up my schedule and now I’m behind on everything.
> 
> Warnings: It’s smut, did ya read the title?

Luca flicked through the pages of his magazine, not paying attention to any of the models or the new Dolce and Gabbana summer collection they were sporting. He didn’t care for the summery scarves or the bags or any celebrity gossip. For once. He hadn’t read a single page so far. **  
**

He crossed his legs. And uncrossed them. And scratched his nose with a corner of the cover. With a groan, he threw the magazine on the coffee table and sat back in his armchair, looking about the spacious house he’d spent the night in.

His boyfriend’s family owned the place, a little villa along the south coast of Cyprus, perfect for reasonably cheap getaways and loaned to the two for a couple of weeks, Luca finally managing to get time off work to actually spend a holiday with his boyfriend. The place was sparely decorated to the point of impersonal, not being anyone’s permanent residence and thus lacking many ornaments or little homemade crafts, and he was surprised there was even a rug on the floor, the only splash of colour in the room.

The doors were made of wide panes of glass, leading directly onto the beach and thrown open in an attempt to tempt in a sea breeze. From the way the thin white curtains draped across it were stock still, it was easy to see the attempt was in vain.

Luca wasn’t handling the heat well. He never could. As if being particularly hot and bothered wasn’t hard enough without feeling like he was melting. They said people became more aroused in warmer weather, and Luca could very well understand what they meant. No wonder Stelios had such a large family.

And no wonder Stelios had had numerous previous partners before moving to Luxembourg and meeting Luca, whilst Luca…

He probably should’ve told Stelios that. He really ought to have.

Stelios was probably expecting him to be good, really cool and composed and in charge of the situation, like with everything else in his life. If he was being completely honest with himself, the thought of seeing the man he was deeply in love with… absolutely naked… it was making him blush already.

He needed to come clean though, so Stelios could understand he wouldn’t know what he was doing, would need a bit of guidance, and oh God please be gentle. He was probably huge. Was it possible to die from this? If they didn’t do it correctly, that is. Or at the very least, he could be injured. What if he ended up paralyzed? Was be being a little melodramatic? Probably.

At least Stelios was at the shops now, which gave him time to think about all this. The fact that Stelios hadn’t had the foresight to stock up on condoms and lube didn’t do a lot to quell his nerves. Neither had Stelios telling him he didn’t really use condoms much nowadays, and thought they could make do with oil. What the hell? No really, what on earth? The fact that he’d said that made Luca all the more insistent that he went to the shop, despite Stelios insisting he’d been to a clinic a few weeks ago and was clean. Even if they were both virgins he wouldn’t take the chance, and had said that to Stelios in case he was at all offended.

“I have returned!” exclaimed Stelios, waving a paper bag high in the air, “bearing gifts!”

“Bearing necessities,” Luca corrected, smiling nervously.

“Right,” he waved a hand, throwing the bag onto the table as he strode in. “I hope you haven’t started without me, or finished for that matter.”

“Well, I haven’t moved since you left.” He decided to omit the five minutes spent pacing the room fretting. Stelios didn’t need to know.

“I can see that,” he grinned, “you didn’t have to stay there, I mean, if you wanted to wait in the bedroom, that would’ve been fine too.”

Yes, the bedroom. He could’ve taken off his shirt, put on some nice music. Sprinkled petals about. Set the scene so it was perfectly romantic. If he knew what he was doing, that is.

“I was hoping you’d carry me,” he replied coyly, gazing up at the other through his eyelashes. Yes, now he was back in the game.

“Oh really?” Stelios’ grin was ear to ear as he strode forward to lift him up, Luca heaving with excitement as he wrapped his legs around his boyfriend’s waist and they embraced for a sloppy kiss.

It was different to their other kisses, Luca noted, deeper, with a hunger he’d not known before. Stelios was biting gently, and he loved it. Luca knew his cheeks were burning noticeably, and his heart was beating so fast he thought it would burst. Stelios pulled away slightly, gazing at him with dark, lustful eyes, lips mere millimeters from each other and frustrating Luca no end. But he waited those few short seconds as tension clung to them, hovering in the air around them.

Stelios parted his lips slightly, and Luca followed, knowing full well how his bright red lips made the other’s heart clench and skip. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulder to get a better grip before Stelios kissed him again and Luca just let him dominate. Stelios was a messy kisser, but Luca didn’t mind one bit, simply allowing the other to explore his lips with the tip of his tongue, slowly working his way in. His nose was pressed against Stelios’ cheek, and he could smell the faint scent of oranges and yogurt, the same flavours lingering in his mouth.

Stelios pulled away ever so slightly to nibble at his bottom lip, delighting in the groan it bought. He shifted Luca’s body slightly to reach his neck, nipping and licking and kissing until Luca was moaning loud enough to be heard outside. He was a rather sensitive soul, after all… and there would be marks on his soft skin tomorrow.

“Um,” Stelios began bashfully, “I’m… I’m going to take this into the bedroom, if that’s okay. Only my arms are getting tired.”

“That’s fine by me, dear.”

So Stelios carried Luca into their bedroom, throwing him down on top of the white sheets before climbing on top of him. He pinned Luca down, gently holding his wrists as the French kissing continued, Luca thankful for the slow pace. He guessed Stelios would want to make this last a while, be unforgettable. Well it certainly would be unforgettable for him, what with it being…

Stelios kissed his neck once more, fumbling at the smaller man’s shirt and almost ripping the buttons open. He nibbled Luca’s collarbone, remembering a previous conversating in which Luca had mentioned how much he liked the idea of biting, and, as luck would have it, his prediction had been right and Luca loved it.

He moved downwards and Luca decided that was enough.

“Okay,” he began, drawing out the word and gently pushing him back up, “we need to talk.”

“I’m sorry,” garbled Stelios, “did I do something wrong?”

“No- no, not at all, no,” Luca sat up, hugging his knees and resting his forehead on Stelios’. “Look, there’s something I should mention first-”

“You actually have a vag-”

“No.”

“-cause I’m not fussy-”

“Steli.”

“No really I’ll put it in anythi-”

“Please stop.”

“Botched circumcision?”

“What? Um, no.”

Stelios tilted his head. “Let me guess, you’re actually in love with my sister.”

“No.”

“Mother?”

“No.”

He pulled a face. “Grandmother?”

“Stelios, please stop talking and let me explain.” He pulled back and took a deep breath, rocking on the bed slightly. “Look, I’m a virgin.”

“Oh,” Stelios began after a pause, “I see.” He blushed slightly.

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, that’s… fine.” He was refusing to look at Luca, finding a rather odd interest in the headboard.

“What?” Luca asked with a scoff.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Let me guess,” he joked, “you have a fetish for ‘deflowering virgins’ or something like that.”

No reply. Stelios buried his face in his hands and let out a whine.

Luca’s eyes widened. “Oh my God you do!”

“No I don’t!” Stelios squeaked.

Luca’s grin just widened at that. “Yes you do! I don’t believe this! Has that made you  _that_  hard already? Holy-”

“It was already like that!” He couldn’t look up, just rocking back and forth, face still in his hands. “Stop staring you’ll scare it away!”

But Luca was having too much fun to stop. “So, what? You want to ravish my delicate virgin body? Have me like no one else has?”

He nodded miserably. “Yes. But there must be stuff you’re into too… or like the idea of?”

“Being manhandled,” Luca admitted, “although, please be gentle this time. I don’t want to die.”

It was a long moment before Stelios spoke. “I don’t know how strong you think I am, honey, but you can’t really die from having sex. What do they teach you in Catholic school?”

“My education was purely secular,” Luca sniffed, “but surely there is some risk.”

“Not of death,” Stelios told him, wrinkling his nose, “but it might hurt if I don’t prepare you right.”

“You’d probably love that,” Luca muttered, sending him a mock-glare.

“And you’d probably love it if I do this!” He shoved Luca back, his head hitting the pillow and sending his hair splaying out like a star.

“I did,” he gasped.

“And this?” He lunged forward to capture Luca’s lips once more, forceful and rough, hand squeezing at his jaw to force his mouth open. Luca was loving it, letting him take over, heavy on top of him and grinding against his erection, oh so uncomfortable in his shorts.

“Steli, oh Stelios,” he reached up to caress his boyfriend’s face.

“You comfortable?” Stelios asked, and when Luca nodded, he shot up and darted out of the room, leaving Luca confused and somewhat frustrated. A chill ran up his body, and he whined softly to himself.

“Forgot the stuff!” he called as he skidded back in the bedroom, chucking the paper bag in his hands across the room, only for it to land smack on Luca’s stomach.

“Cheers,” he grunted, tossing it aside.

“Now, I guess it’s business time.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he began unbuttoning his shirt, moving across the room with swaying hips, humming something tuneless. Luca giggled as Stelios threw his shirt across the room, and with one swoop, had pulled down his shorts and underwear. He threw his arms in the air with a cheer for all of a second before doubling over with a wail.

“I caught my foreskin on my zipper,” he whimpered, and Luca clutched his own crotch instinctively.

“Oh gosh, are you okay?”

“Sure. Gimme a sec.” He took several, deep breaths, rubbing his dick before finally standing up straight again, arms in the air once more. “And resume!”

“Oh yes? I suppose I should join you.” As Luca moved to take off his shirt, Stelios strode over and pushed him back down.

“Allow me,” he offered, practically ripping the thing off and into the floor, shorts soon following. He climbed onto the bed, wiggling down so his was hovering right over Luca’s boxers.

“Want me to take these off too?” he asked teasingly.

“Yes. Please yes.”

“Shame.” And he kissed Luca’s bulge through the material, sloppy and wet and better than anything Luca had done by himself. It just felt electrifying when it was someone else touching him. Stelios brought his hand up to caress him, fondling him gently and revelling in the moan it brought out.

“You’re excited,” he noted.

“Your hand is on my…” he whined as he was kissed there again, “you might want to get on with this.”

“Right.” Stelios peeled the underwear away, tossing it aside and taking the tip in his mouth.

“You’re not helping,” Luca squeaked, “I’m going to finish and we’ll have to wait to actually do anything and-”

“Hey come on,” with a smile of reassurance, Stelios crawled up so they were nose to nose, nuzzling his face. “You have to relax, okay? I’m gonna take care of you, so there’s no need to stress. Things will go smoother if you’re relaxed and properly aroused.”

“I’m so aroused it’s crazy,” Luca argued, but Stelios just kissed him with a snort. And again, soft and gentle.

“Where’s that bag?” he muttered, pulling away to fumble for a condom. He tore off the foil like it was burning him, rolling the rubber out on his erection, whilst Luca watched fascinated.

“I have to say,” he mumbled, “I’m rather relieved you’re not… so endowed I’d worry you wouldn’t fit.”

“I’ll take relief over my smaller than average souvla over disappointment,” Stelios replied with a giggle.

“I don’t have much to compare it with, so how can I be disappointed?”

Stelios blushed. “Oh right, you’re… about to lift the embargo on the man milk trade.”

Luca turned a little green. “Please never say that again.”

“Well how would you put it?”

After a moment’s thought came the reply of: “popping the cork on a bottle of Auxerrois blanc?”

Stelios just laughed. “See that’s why you’re the virgin and I’m not.”

“Well you have a virginity kink,” Luca huffed, sticking out his tongue. Stelios just glared, squirting a generous dollop of lube onto his hand.

“This might be a bit cold.” And with that, he slid a finger in, delighting in the yelp that followed.

“It’s okay dear,” he muttered as he rubbed Luca’s shoulder, “remember, just relax.”

Luca wasn’t sure how to articulate that he had no intention of relaxing over such a feeling. When the second finger went in his chest heaved, even if Stelios’ actions were jerky and awkward. This was a whole new level of pleasure and he wanted to remember every blissful second, every little sensation.

“It’s okay,” Stelios murmured as he kissed his chest. “I’ll do my best. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Mmm,” Luca tried to relax into the bed, but his mind was in overdrive. Through the tidal wave of sensation, he wondered where he should put his hands, if he should be doing something with them, if he was making the right noises.

“I’m going to put it in now,” Stelios told him with a blush. “This might sting a little.”

Luca nodded breathlessly, and at that moment forgot his worries. Even the pain didn’t bother him as he let his instincts take over, gripping Stelios’ shoulders, the other man motionless and letting him get used to the feeling of being stretched like that. Luca wasn’t sure Stelios had prepared him quite as thoroughly as planned, if he was as small as he said he was, maybe that was why. It still felt incredible.

“Are you good?”

“Yes, oh… oh my,” his fingers dug deeper as Stelios began to move, and he could see the restraint across his features as passion ignited in the pits of his stomach. Luca threw his head back into the pillow as a noise caught between a moan and a scream erupted from his lips.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Stelios fought to speak through his own pleasure.

“No, not at all dear.”

The speed he’s going is perfect, not rough just yet, nice and slow to get him used to the feeling of another man inside him, the wonderful feeling Stelios was allowing him to experience at long last.

But he still wanted to fuck with him, just a bit.

“So how do you feel?” he asked breathlessly, fluttering his eyelashes, “that I am giving you my virginity to keep? That it is now yours?”

“Stop it.” Luca could’ve sworn the other actually got harder at the thought.

“But I mean it,” he could barely speak through the thousands of thoughts and sensations surrounding him, “I want you to pound me, claim me, I don’t want anyone else and I want you to make damned sure I’ll never want anyone else for the rest of my life.”

His hunch was right, it seemed. Those were the exact words Stelios wanted, needed, judging by how his eyes darkened and his muscles tightened, like he was holding back from going all out.

“Do it,” Luca breathed onto his lips, “fuck me into the mattress.” A wave of shyness overwhelmed him at the thought of what he just said, after all, he was a composed, elegant young man, and right now he was a sweaty, babbling mess, but it was too late to chicken out now. And he knew this was what they both wanted. It did nothing to stop him from turning pink as he tried to maintain eye contact, cheeks burning.

Stelios complied with the enthusiasm of a lion with it’s teeth around its prey’s throat. He grabbed Luca’s arse, repositioning it and readjusting himself so he was balls deep, and Luca couldn’t speak. Oh he tried, of course, to continue with his little dirty talk, to rile his boyfriend up and over the edge, but his head was a mess and he couldn’t form a complete sentence in one language, all four running through his mind too fast for him to catch.

And it only got worse the faster Luca thrust.

“Jo,” he tried, resorting to his native tongue, like every other time when all logic and sense had long left, and he was drowning in primal instinct. Most of the time it was fear, but now it was absolute bliss that left him with nothing but the urge to tell Stelios ‘yes’. More. Faster. Yes yes yes please oh God. Stelios couldn’t understand him completely, but he seemed to get the idea.

“Jo,” was all he could say as he wrapped his legs around Stelios’ waist, thrusting in a way he hoped was pleasant. He didn’t know, really. “Oh jo, jo. Jo… Stelios.”

His boyfriend paused to giggle. “It sounds like you’re trying to rap.”

“Oh shush you.”

And he did, resuming his almost-assault on the other’s body, and Luca knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He wasn’t alone, it seemed, because one more call of Stelios’ name, and he was gone. Luca almost thought he felt it, before Stelios ground to a halt, looking like he could very well collapse on top of him.

“That…” he breathed, and Stelios replied with a shaky nod.

“Hang on,” he muttered, crawling back down so his head was between Luca’s thighs, giving himself a few moments to catch his breath before he ducked down to kiss the soft skin, caress it, not venturing upwards to Luca’s still-hard cock, and Luca had to resist the urge to grab it himself, seeing as his boyfriend delighted in being such a little tease.

“Please! Just get on with it!”

The fact that Stelios complied so suddenly took him by surprise, the man going straight in for the deepthroat, bobbing his head to lick and slurp, messily kissing and taking him all in his mouth once more, using his hands to fondle and stroke and finger, whatever it took to make Luca a puddle of pleading and stammering.

And just like that, he finished, right in Stelios’ face.

He thought he would faint from the explosion of sensation that thundered through his body, mind blank, a wave of pleasure washing over him, gone before he could even begin to process what was happening. He shuddered and gulped as he rode off his first ever orgasm.

When it was over, he glanced down to find his boyfriend sleepily grinning back at him, face covered in white liquid.

“Mmm,” he commented as he stuck a tongue out to lick his cheek.

“Don’t be gross,” Luca muttered, barely awake.

“No really, taste it.” Stelios crawled forwards, wiping his face before trying to stick his fingers in Luca’s mouth, the other half-heartedly swiping them away.

“Silly man,” he muttered, yawning, “we need to do that again though.”

Stelios collapsed next to him, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Hell yeah.”

“Hey, Steli?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”


	34. HuttMol - Masturbation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk it’s a guy jerking off what the hell am I supposed to say?

If he got caught he’d be in so much trouble, and fucking hell this just wasn’t something a person did when they were a guest in someone’s house, but Mike couldn’t Goddamn take it anymore.

He locked the door to the bathroom of the Cooper’s house, the one right at the top of the building, built into Oscar’s attic bedroom, where he, Oscar and Sal would all be sleeping. Sure, not the most ideal arrangement- and one of the reasons he needed five minutes to himself- but at least he wasn’t crowded in Charlie’s room with all her annoying little friends. Who were somehow also his friends.

Still, he didn’t want to think about them now, and so long as more than one of them didn’t need to use the bathroom at once, he’d have time to himself to get this over with. Everyone else was downstairs watching a film in the sitting room, and so had he, until being squashed up next to Oscar got too much and he needed to excuse himself.

Mike fiddled with his jeans, pushing them down to his knees, embarrassed at how he’d gotten so hard already from just sitting next to his crush. At least Oscar hadn’t noticed, and his hand had been resting on Mike’s knee. Still, no time to waste, and when this was all over he might be able to enjoy a normal evening.

He gently fondled his cock through his boxers, closing his eyes as he stroked himself, resting on the edge of the bath and imagining it was Oscar instead of his own hand, kneeling before him, amazed at the size of him, because deep down Mike needed an ego boost sometimes.

Oscar, in his fantasy, lifted up his shirt and trailed kisses down his belly, gazing up at him through those long lashes as he kissed through the material of his boxers, leaving a wet mark.

His free hand reached out, grabbing at a mop of curly hair that wasn’t there. He could imagine himself running his hands through that hair, if the other permitted, messing it up, seeing what it looked like unruly for once.

Knowing he didn’t have a lot of time before he’d be missed, Mike pulled down his boxers slightly to free his cock, running warm water over his hands before beginning to touch himself, to imagine it was Oscar’s mouth. He wondered if Oscar would moan.

Mike rubbed the head, particularly sensitive now and imagined Oscar’s soft lips were teasing him instead. It was a fantasy he’d played out several times now, usually in the privacy of his own room though, but here he decided to change things up a little. It wasn’t a slow, romantic night where the two of them finally made love because they were so incredibly mad for each other and needed to show their passion in this way, not anymore. This time it was a hurried, lust-filled endeavor. Possibly in a public bathroom. They’d not been able to help it: they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They’d teased each other in front of a large group, possibly during a meal. Oscar had probably rubbed a foot up and down his thigh almost mockingly, smirking from across the table before finally excusing himself. Now they were here and weren’t holding back any longer.

Mike quickened his pace.

It was messy and sloppy and hushed, with hands over mouths as they tried their utmost to stay quiet. Well, hands over Mike’s mouth, as Oscar’s was rather full already.

With his free hand, he actually covered his mouth to heighten his fantasy. Not to mention he’d let a grunt escape.

Oscar had a very plump lower lip, something he’d noticed over the years, something he was now imagining brushing against his balls. He’d probably choke, Mike noted, remembering how the guy had a pretty jumpy gag reflex, and his didn’t know why his sick little mind got a kick out of that. Wasn’t it supposed to be the opposite?

Still, this wasn’t the time to think about it, and he could feel the tension rising in the pit of his stomach, the bubbling knot as he thought of what Oscar could do, was doing in his dreams. He was so close now, pumping faster and faster, knuckles in his mouth to stop himself making noise, like he knew he would. He’d probably say something sappy too, because damn he was a sap when it came to Oscar.

And when he himself came, it was at the exact same moment as a knock on the door that resounded through the room and made him jump. Mike tripped on the bathroom rug and screamed out both his fear and orgasm.

“What’s going on in there?” called Oscar from the other side of the door, voice dripping with concern and more than a little worry. “Are you okay?”

Shit. Oh fuck. Oh why this of all things? This was a dream. It was a shitty dream like that one where he forgot his homework and pants and that one English teacher who was a dick suddenly has his mother’s face and was telling the class about the time he pissed himself in church when he was five. It was just like that but worse and any second now he’d wake up horrified but relieved and a little unclean.

“I’m fine,” he rasped out in a strangled voice, pulling metres of toilet paper out to clean up his mess. Thank God the bath mat was white. How the hell would he explain those kinds of stains to Oscar?

And more pressingly, how was he going to explain  _this_  to Oscar?

“Are you sure? You’ve been in there a while?”

“I’ve had a disaster!” Mike cried, “it’s gone everywhere! The walls! My hair! The sonovabitch ceiling! What was in those sandwiches you made?” It got a laugh, at least.

“Oh sod off and hurry up. I need to relieve myself.”

Why the fuck would he call it that?

“Just go downstairs;” he hoped the sound of toilet paper being used to furiously scrub spunk off the floor wasn’t too suspicious a sound to him.

“I can’t. Peter’s in there.”

 _Fuck_.

“Well, erm, gimme a sec.”

“Oh, of course.”

He was still standing there, the motherfucker.

“I can’t go when people are listening,” Mike whined.

“Oh for- fine. I’ll be downstairs. Please hurry.”

And that was that. Once more, Mike was alone, this time sprawled out on the bathroom floor with his pants around his knees, wondering just what his life had become and when, just when, he would ever have to courage to actually talk to Oscar about his feelings. Leaving this all out, of course.


	35. AusHun - Blowjob

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the stupidest ideas I’ve had to date, and that’s really saying something. The things this guy will do for money, eh?

Roderich wasn’t one for petty bets, thinking himself above the need to prove himself for money- as tempting as it was- so he couldn’t fathom for the life of him why he was agreeing to go along with this. Pride was never an issue for him, so to actually say yes to something in order to not be branded a coward, normally by Gilbert of all people? What did it matter to him?

His girlfriend, however, was a different story altogether.

Not that she thought him a coward, not at all, she was just curious and wanted to run a little experiment. A stupid experiment.

He never thought of himself that quiet in bed. He was just concentrating; was that so bad? He didn’t think so, especially when all his attention went on making sure his wife was having the best time possible, rather than sounding like… whatever she thought he sounded like. A donkey giving birth, apparently, though she said she didn’t mind that. She couldn’t really blame him for being quiet though, he decided, if that was what he sounded like.

But now that was about to be tested once and for all.

He hadn’t even known this was the kind of thing Érzsebét was into, unless she was just curious, and maybe a little bored and sadistic. He wasn’t into this at all, but fifty euro wasn’t something to scoff at. All he had to do was play the piano at a party and not make a sound besides his fingers on the keys. Simple right?

Except for the fact that Érzsebét would be pleasuring him the whole time.

She, of course, would be hidden from view by a curtain around the piano as he played to all their friends and family, and none of them could suspect a thing. That shouldn’t be a problem for someone as silent as he was, apparently.

Roderich drummed his fingers against the rim of his champagne glass, trying his best to listen to whatever boring tripe his cousins were talking about. How could he concentrate on anything? He hadn’t been this scared yet aroused since that time he found Érzsebét waiting in his bed with a riding crop and leather corset.

That wasn’t helping his blush and distracted eyes.

He glanced about the room; everyone he knew and tolerated was milling about as a hired musician played something relaxing on the piano. Well, he was the co-host and needed to mingle and greet. Champagne was flowing, possibly in an attempt to get the stifled conversation flowing too, but the ballroom round the back of his mansion home looked absolutely beautiful and the guests loved listlessly looking around at the mass of detail in the walls and ceiling. And anywhere but at each other, really.

Roderich caught Érzsebét’s eye as she laughed and joked with her cousins, easy to spot, being the loudest in the room, and he considered joining them. But he wasn’t sure he could talk to her just yet without doing something to give their plan away. She’s giggle. He’d stammer. They just weren’t meant for keeping secrets.

Even now, when she was glancing at him from across the room, grinning and throwing him a wink, he turned away with a flushed face. Damn her. He loved her so much.

So much he was going to actually do this because she thought it would be fun. Oh, and he wanted the money.

He was certain there was a number of words for people who exchanged sex for money. Did it count if it was for a wager?

He’d be going on stage soon, noting that Érzsebét was already making her way out of the room. 

The end of the room, opposite the windows, was hidden by a thick red curtain, because Érzsebét crawling under a piano would look more than a little suspect to a room full of people.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he told his cousins, probably interrupting a story, but he wasn’t interested; “I have to… prepare my party piece.” They all gave rather bored nods, except Elise, who actually looked interested. Gilbert, meanwhile, looked just about ready to jump off the balcony and escape through the garden. But they all excused him nonetheless, and he made his way through the crowd- stopping where needed to engage in smalltalk- and into the hallway. Through the stage’s side door, and he came face to face with his beloved piano and her smooth, glistening black surface. He strode over, footsteps drowning out the muffled conversations beyond the veil of red. Another curtain had been wrapped around his piano, to keep Érzsebét- and his exposed genitalia- nice and hidden.

From the curtain came the muffled sound of giggling.

“This is highly immature,” he sighed, taking a seat and neatening his music sheets to distract himself from the ugly laughter down below. “And I thought  _I_ would be the one giving us away.”

“I just can’t believe I talked you into this.”

Neither could he, and she’d talked him into having sex  _on top_  of the piano a few times. Okay, maybe  _he’d_  talked  _her_  into it actually…

Roderich nodded to himself as he stared down at the music- Mozart’s ‘lick my arse’. Well, if they were going to descend into absurdity and depravity, they might as well go all the way. He hoped none of the crowd out there would be familiar with the piece’s name, but he knew he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Maybe it’s because I love you,” he muttered, knowing full well Érzsebét could hear him.

“Get out,” she scoffed, “you just want fifty euro.”

“I’ll buy you something nice with it,” he promised, “a new riding crop, perhaps?”

“Oh you spoil me, you really do.” Her hand slithered over to stroke along his trouser leg, and he bit his lip for just a moment.

“Now’s not quite the time,” he hissed, “the curtains are not even pulled back yet.”

“Is that a euph-”

“Oh grow up.” Despite the huff in his voice, he playfully nudged her with a shoe. Érzsebét rested her hands on his knees, and her chin on his hands, grinning up at him and wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yes?” drawled Roderich.

“Excited?”

“No,” he muttered, “mortified? Yes. Exasperated? Yes.”

“Aroused? Also yes.” Érzsebét nodded at his crotch, and he blushed as he shifted his legs. Well, there was no need to point it out.

“Just get on with it,” she added, sliding a finger up to stroke him.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he rolled his eyes, “honestly.” Picking up a tiny sliver of a remote control off the keys, he clicked a button and settling down as the curtains unveiled to reveal a large chunk of the people he knew, and all his and Érzsebét’s families. Well, at least he had plenty to look at, if he needed to make sure he lasted the whole song.

“Good evening, my beloved guests,” he lied, “it is now that time of the evening, when I play for you something from the heart to welcome you into our home.” Maybe people knowing the song would be an even worse idea than already anticipated. But he couldn’t practice something else now, so decided to see what would happen.

Maybe he liked being reckless every now and again.

Roderich began playing as the trickle of applause died down. It was a rather jolly tune, and he played with vigour not seen by most people when it came to Roderich Edelstein, making sure to nod his head and move his lips to some of the words. After all, at least any jerky movement would be more likely to go unnoticed.

Érzsebét, too, was not wasting time here, and his trousers were unzipped by the first bar. His phallus was out by the second, her lips pecking at his head at first, teasing, taunting. He tried to ignore her, not making a sound as he played on. He could do it. Even when she took more of him in her mouth, licking from base to tip, fondling and caressing him gently, the way she knew he liked.

He stiffened for just a moment, continuing on like nothing happened, like Érzsebét wasn’t fondling his balls right now. Wasn’t- oh mercy how the hell was she doing that? He bit his lip. This was harder than he imagined.

Was he going to last? Roderich almost let a gasp escape.

He’d have to get his revenge somehow, sometime in the future. In a similar way, of course. He wasn’t sure he could hide under one of her horses though.

Érzsebét had a sharp tongue, but it felt good around ‘Rod’, as she’d called it numerous times to annoy him. She knew what she was doing- they both did by now, having been married for ten years.

He wasn’t going to last.

He was going to squeal or gasp or do something to give them away. He was never this quiet before, and at the very least talked to her when his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. Sometimes. But he wasn’t mute!

Érzsebét stroked his shaft as he neared the end of the piece, and suddenly he was faced with an opposing dilemma. What if the song finished before he did?  _Hurry up, Érzsebét_. 

What turn had his life taken to land him in this situation? And was this really the time to ponder the inner workings of his and his wife’s minds?

He nervously tapped his foot, and Érzsebét seemed to get the idea, pumping as she hummed around-  _oh why was he calling it ‘Rod’ now too?_  The fact that she was humming along- however- gave him that extra allegro to dance his fingers across the keys, jerking his shoulders up with enthusiasm as the vibrations from her mouth tickled him. Any second now.

His fingers slammed the keys a little too loudly as he came, but he didn’t let a sound escape his lips. He wanted to, of course. Hell, he wanted to let the whole room know just how incredible Érzsebét was, but he decided not to traumatise everyone here. Wasn’t he nice?

For three whole seconds, he wasn’t too sure he  _could_  speak. He wasn’t too sure of anything as his mind went blank and every bit of tension they’d been building up together was released. His hands worked on automatic to keep playing.

And just like that, it was all over, he played his last few bars as Érzsebét zipped him up, and the music stilled to the sound of applause.

“Thank you all,” he gave a bow in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he did catch Ludwig and Gilbert staring at him oddly though, and he had to wonder if he’d been caught. Although suspicion had been allowed as per the terms of their bet, anyone outrightly stating correctly what had happened would cause him to lose. Maybe he and Érzsebét would just have to avoid them for the rest of the evening. In fact, he may well retire to his chambers early.

“Well,” he gasped the moment the curtains were drawn, crawling under the piano to check on Érzsebét, and give her a kiss. He aimed for the cheek but she caught him on the lips. It tasted disgusting to him, but he loved kissing her nonetheless.

“How are you?” he asked once they drew away, “do you feel good?”

“Probably not as much as you do,” she admitted, “seeing as you won and all.”

“I’ll make up for that later,” muttered Roderich with a blush, “when everyone has gone.”

“I’d like that very much, thanks.”


	36. HuttMol - Clothed Getting Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m aware that half of these so far have been HuttMol. Things will calm down for this pairing I swear. This is generally a stand alone fic but it could work in the Just Kids universe too. [Does this count as updating then?]

This was as far as either awkward teen was comfortable going for the time being.

Well, there was the occasional handjob, if one of them was feeling particularly frustrated and charged, but for the most part, stretched out on Oscar’s bed, the teen himself underneath him up close, the radio playing slow songs from the last century as the curtains on the four-poster swished and swayed with the summer breeze, that was where it was at for those two. Slow was the perfect word here, the two of them not caring for time- or homework they’d technically set out to finish that was now sitting abandoned on the desk. It was absolutely magical.

Oscar was loud and articulate, even when he was being kissed, and it was fortunate his family were out for the afternoon, or things would be very uncomfortable for everyone indeed. Mike liked it though, and took it as praise he couldn’t say right at that moment. And when his lips moved down to the other’s neck? Well, he was told loud and clear. What he was doing fantastically. Where to go. Yes, yes, absolutely perfect dear.

Mike could do this for hours, and sometimes they did, kissing until things got too much and they went a bit further. Not too far, mind you.

Right now, Mike was trying his best, propped up on his arms as he grinded his hips against Oscar’s, revelling in the other boy’s moans on his lips, sharp in his ear as he licked the base of his neck through his collar. His skin was hot through his school shirt, something Mike could appreciate in the chilly spring afternoon, despite the blanket wrapped around his legs and lower back. The faint smell of Oscar’s deodorant lingered in his nose, along with the candle he’d lit on the bedside table for mood lighting. The curtains were drawn, the pair wanting to make quite sure they were in complete privacy, door closed, cushions and blankets thrown together to form a nest where they could feel safe and cosy and be intimate freely.

He pulled his mouth away, pushing himself up ever so slightly to get a good view, trying his best to distract Oscar from his gawping with his lower body.

Oscar’s lips were parted, moist, face flushed and eyes unfocused under hooded lids and thick lashes. Mike noticed how his cheeks looked like a pair of little apples, and wondered if he’d get away nibbling one. Oscar wasn’t the biggest fan of being bitten, having had a younger sibling to do the honours in their childhood years.

So he settled for stroking Oscar’s hair, messy and splayed out on the pillow. The boy gave a half-hearted whine in protest- as if his hair wasn’t already out of place-, but did not stop him. Mike massaged his hair in a way he knew Oscar liked, and in turn, Oscar massaged his neck, soft and gentle.

Mike wondered if this was the right time to take things further. He slid down, slipping his hands up Oscar’s shirt to rub his sides, receiving a moan in approval.

When he ducked down to kiss the bulge in Oscar’s trousers, however, the other stiffened and squirmed.

“Wait,” he gasped, “no, please, not yet-”

“Oh shit sorry!” Mike scrambled away to the end of the bed, letting the other sit up and hug himself, neither willing to look each other in the eye. “I was just… I don’t know what I was doing.”

“It’s fine,” Oscar assured him, “it’s easy to get carried away. I don’t want to stop, just not… you know.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Mike leaned forward to kiss him, gentle, tender, trying to throw one more apology at him in his lips. When the pulled away, Oscar fiddled with his collar coyly.

“You know, you can take my shirt of… if- if you’d like.”

“Would you like that?” asked Mike, raising an eyebrow.

“…Yes.” He bit his lip to suppress a giggle, looking away with a shy smile.

“Well then…” Mike placed a hand on his chest and- ever so gently- pushed him back down on the bed. Oscar liked gentle. He liked tender. He liked all the care in the world directed at him. Mike did too, if he was being honest.

But he also liked things a bit dirty, so when he came face to chest with a panting Oscar, heaving through his thin white shirt, he decided to go one extra. Bending down, he took the top button in his teeth, trying to push the button through its hole. It wouldn’t budge. The stupid thing slipped. Maybe from another angle… okay, a different angle to that. He tried using his teeth to pull the material over the button. It slipped again. He fiddled and poked until he was a dribbling mess and his arms stung from supporting him.

“Michael,” muttered Oscar, “your saliva’s making a cold patch…”

“Yeah alright.” With a groan and wounded pride, he sat up and undid the buttons with his fingers like a normal human being. There was no passion or sensuality, and, on a level, he wanted to sink into the ground.

“It felt hot at first,” Oscar tried to assure him.

“Whatever.” He couldn’t help smiling though. The shirt was off in no time now, and Oscar reached up to return the favour. On the floor it went, and Mike’s mouth was back on Oscar’s now bare neck, kissing and licking gently. God Oscar was so loud.

He moved his hips once more, desperate to please and desperate to be relieved. Plus his arms were still sore and he wanted to lay down and relax at some point.

It felt so good through, the friction as he ground his crotch against Oscar’s. Mike was overcome with bliss, chest heaving as his stomach knotted tighter and tighter with each movement. Tension coiled in him as his pants became increasingly stiffer and more uncomfortable, unbearable against his cock. But oh so delightful.

The groans in his ear were delicious.

Oscar’s hands on his shoulders were particularly enjoyable, squeezing and massaging. One shot down to his nipple and the rubbing and squeezing almost left him sobbing.

He let out a whine when Oscar moved his hand back up.

“Please do that again,” he begged with a blush, and Oscar was all too happy to comply. Mike joined in, leaning forward to stroke his chest, or should that be his chest hair.

Mike suspected Oscar would take after his brother, who looked like he was wearing a thick jumper when shirtless, so he for once wasn’t surprised at the fine dusting of hair already beginning to sprout. What he wasn’t expecting was for it to be so damn soft.

Mike knew he should be trying to bring the other some sort of pleasure, but right now he was fascinated by the fine, downy hair he was currently stroking.

“It’s like a baby chick,” he whispered, fascinated.

“Cheep cheep,” Oscar replied with a giggle.

“How do you get it so soft?”

“…Conditioner.”

“Wow.” He continued to stroke Oscar’s chest hair, to the boy’s annoyance.

“Weren’t you in the middle of something?” He tucked a hand behind his head, giving a wink that wasn’t quite as sensual as he’d have liked. It still made Mike blush though.

“Right, right, of course.” He’d come close to the edge several times now and it was killing him- though not enough to not be distracted by his boyfriend’s chest hair, apparently.

And once more, he started grinding. This time he gave it his all, moving and touching and doing what he could until that familiar white light overloaded his senses and he shuddered into Oscar’s neck.

“I think,” he gasped, struggling to retain a coherent thought, “I think… I just… I just came.”

“Figured that one out,” Oscar replied, moments before Mike’s rubbing made him come too. Man, if Mike thought he was loud before…

He had to lean back from the earful of screaming, praying the guy’s brother hadn’t come home early, only to hear what he’d think was his baby brother being murdered brutally.

“Sorry,” Oscar rasped in a thin, wispy voice, eyes unfocused as his chest heaved and his body twitched. Mike had done that. His own chest swelled with pride.

“It’s cool, dude,” he assured him, “I like how you sound anyway.”


	37. SeyPrus - Half-Dressed

He couldn’t believe she looked better in his favourite t shirt than he did, but Angie rocked it and Stelios absolutely loved it.

It was like a nightdress on her, a faded salmon [not pink, Sadik] thing with the words ‘I’m a virgin… this is an old shirt’ written across the chest. Funny enough, it was actually an old shirt his brother bought him as a joke, now incredibly relevant as it was always the shirt Angie picked off his bedroom floor to wear on mornings after, only ever bothering with her knickers in addition.

It was the shirt she wore when she made her way across the hall to the kitchen, or more specifically the juicer to make fresh drinks for them both. Angie absolutely loved fruit, and all things fruit-related, especially freshly squeezed into a smoothie or juice, served with more fruit. Coconuts were her favourite though, if they counted as fruit, and she was willing to break one open every morning to add it to her drinks. At this point, Stelios was sick of the taste, but he wasn’t going to rain on Angie’s fruit parade anytime soon, If she liked it, who was he to complain?

Plus, after their drinks, they usually picked up from where they left off each night. Angie still kept the t shirt on as she rolled on top of him on those lazy late mornings, windows thrown wide open, curtains twitching in the summer breeze as outside, people lived their lives in the street below, busy and rushed. The sun would filter down through the stacks of flats, through the washing lines and onto Angie’s beautiful face as she knelt on top of him.

Stelios wondered if they could be seen from the windows opposite, before deciding he didn’t care.

He was rather lazy at heart, so those days exclusively involved Angie on top, straddling him as she rode him, messing up his hair, licking the juice off his lips, laughing at the funny faces he made.

He loved running his hands up her thighs, revelling in the gasps and moans they coaxed from her mouth. His fingers would travel upwards, tracing ghost-like circles over her sides before coming in harder as he massaged her breasts.

The shirt would come off at some point, once more tossed aside to join the rest of his wardrobe on the floor. Stelios slept naked and as such there was no need for him to strip, more than happy to get straight into things.

And when he’d finished- he usually did first- she wiggled forward until she was sitting on his face and he would get to work making sure she did too. Plus, she was now in prime position for him to grab her arse.

And when they’d both finished, Stelios would pull Angie close, pull the covers around them, and doze off with his face on her neck.


	38. UkrMon - Skype Sex

Monique was going to write a formal letter of complaint to whatever broadband network her girlfriend was currently using.

Katya came online again. And was off within seconds. Back on. She was typing something. She was still typing. And she was offline again. Monique resisted the urge to continue without her, instead reflecting on what she’d already typed.

_Katya: Um, okay, give me a moment._

_Katya: I’m not sure how to do this._

_Katya: Let’s see…_

_Moni: Want me to start?_

_Katya: Yes please._

_Moni: You know, if I were there, I’d kill you so much._

_Moni: *kiss._

_Katya: Oh my._

_Katya: Maybe it’s better that I’m here._

_Moni: I definitely meant kiss. And I’d play with your hair._

_Moni: And rip that blouse right off you._

_Katya: Oh my. How do you know I’m wearing a blouse?_

_Moni: Lucky guess._

…

Katya always wore them. Blouses or big baggy jumpers. Her shirts and shorts were high-waisted, possibly with braces. And she’d be wearing tights. Oh lordy those tights looked good on her.

But they looked better on her bedroom floor.

…

_Katya: And maybe I’d carry you into the bedroom._

_Katya: You’re so tiny it’s cute._

_Moni: …Why thank you, I think._

_Moni: …Kat?_

_Katya: Sorry, internet went down._

_Katya: Maybe then I could throw you on the bed?_

_Moni: Jolly good._

_Katya: And_

_Katya: And kiss you all over._

_Katya: And unzip your dress and just throw it on the floor._

_Moni: Nice_

_Moni: …_

_Moni: Internet?_

_Katya: Yes, sorry._

_Moni: It’s fine._

_…_

It wasn’t, really. Monique was more than a little frustrated by now, and pretty keen to get down to business. It was bad enough her girlfriend lived on the other side of Europe, but they couldn’t even talk long distance too? Or roleplay?

Maybe now was the time to ask Katya to move in with her. Then again, she had a career and- admittedly dysfunctional- family and responsibilities in Ukraine, and Monique didn’t really fancy moving there instead. Or anywhere colder than Mediterranean that made her yacht stand out amongst other boats.

Maybe Katya wouldn’t be too upset if she started without her. Maybe she’d already started herself. The thought made her slip a hand in her knickers, unclasping the bra she’d bought specially for tonight.

But, of course, Katya’s webcam was playing up.

…

_Katya: I’d cup your boobs._

…

Monique sat up, resting an elbow on her desk. Now they were getting somewhere.

…

_Moni: Oh yes?_

_Katya: Yes._

_Katya: And I’d take off your bra._

_Moni: I’d have new underwear, you know? Would you like them?_

_Katya: Yes! Yes!_

_Katya: …Did you buy new underwear?_

_Moni: Maybe._

_Katya: Pictures?_

…

With a grumble, Monique fumbled with her bra, clasping the thing back on to take a picture. For added measure, she took a few sprawled out on the bed. Satisfied that the images were lewd enough to successfully melt what was left of Katya’s hard drive, she returned to her computer to send them.

Five minutes later, they were still sending, Katya had not said another word, and Monique was searching for porn to watch instead when she heard the sound of a notification. Switching back to skype, she- at long last- had a reply.

…

_Katya: You’re so beautiful, dear._

_Moni: I’m glad you like them ;P_

_Moni: Touching yourself yet?_

…

Monique giggled at the fantasy in her head, of Katya squirming with embarrassment from both the photos and comment. She’d be blushing furiously, hand over her mouth and her other hand? Of course she’d be touching herself. And boy oh boy would she be mortified about it.

…

_Moni: Thought so._

_Katya: Shut up!_

_Moni: That blouse off yet?_

_Moni: I’d ask for pics but I don’t have all week._

_Katya: Use your imagination ;}_

_Moni: Oh I will._

… 

Katya began typing. Katya stopped. Katya went offline again.

Monique switched back to her porn. The lesbian category had some good stuff tonight.

The stupid overly sexy bra was off now, discarded on the floor, most likely never to see the light of day until Katya’s next visit. The knickers would be gone next.

Another beep.

…

_Katya: I’d stroke your, um_

_Katya: I’d stroke your minge_

_Moni: Please never call it that again_

_Katya: I’d stroke your lady parts_

_Moni: …Better_

_Katya: And then…_

…

Katya went offline.

She didn’t come back online until Monique and her porn were finished.

…

_Katya: I’d_

_Katya: I’d lick you_

_Katya: all over_

_Moni: Kat, I already came._

_Katya: What?_

_Moni: You went offline, and I could wait no longer so…_

_Moni: Had some alone time truly alone._

_Katya: Oh._

_Moni: I still have some more in me though_

_Moni: You know, to keep going until you orgasm_

_Katya: So blunt._

_Katya: But fine_

_Moni: You know, in two weeks we’ll be seeing each other again. And when that happens I will pick you up from the airport, take you home, and make love to you all night long. I will kiss you everywhere. I will caress your breasts and kiss your belly button the way you like it. I will make you so happy._

_Moni: Plus, I have this new toy I’ll need a second opinion on._

…

It was a full five minutes before Katya replied, and Monique suspected that wasn’t entirely her internet’s fault.

…

_Katya: Oh my_

_Katya: A toy?_

_Moni: To be crude, a vibrating strap on with your name on it_

_Moni: Plus some new lingerie and a feather duster_

_Moni: Fun fun fun_

_Katya: For me? My, you shouldn’t have_

_Katya: I’m very ticklish, so it should be interesting_

_Moni: Good_

_Moni: I love your laugh_

…

Monique could practically feel Katya’s blush through the computer. She’d be a nervous mess by now and Monique absolutely loved it.

Katya went offline.

Monique waited.

Katya didn’t come online for the rest of the evening.

Stupid damned internet.


	39. OzNZ - Against a Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a surprising amount in this challenge for these two, including this of course.
> 
> Warning: NSFW, mentions of alcohol and drugs

People had probably done worse in this club, or in this case outside it. Well, maybe not, unless someone had been murdered on this very spot or something.

They’d both decided this shithole couldn’t get anymore tainted and soiled, so if they couldn’t wait until they stumbled home to have eye-watering anal sex, who cared? Really? It was three in the morning and anyone left inside was probably too coked up to really care if they stumbled out and found a pair of drunks fucking against a brick wall amongst bags of rubbish and a pair of rats also fucking at three in the morning. The place stank of leftover takeaway and stale booze- and a little of the last couple that had had fun here- but Hunapo wasn’t too fussed. They were absolutely out of their mind hammered anyway. Maybe if they were sober, they might have worried at the inevitability of catching a nasty disease from baring their lower body to a place this caked in filth of all kinds. But they weren’t. So to hell with the consequences.

The reason their upcoming anal session would be eye-watering is, of course, because neither thought lube would be necessary to bring to a club. They would have a few drinks, embarrass themselves dancing, and go home, or pass out in some stranger’s front garden. That had happened before. It hadn’t always ended well though.

But no,  _someone_  had a stupidly over-excited schlong that got aroused over nothing.

Luckily, they’d done this so many times before Huna was sure they could manage without lube just this once, and they’d been in a relationship for a few years now, didn’t cheat, and hadn’t slept with anyone else in any other scenario, so had long stopped bothering with condoms.

Not that Hunapo honestly cared as they were being manhandled and lifted up, roughly thrown against the wall as Logan cupped their arse to keep them there, now actually level with his mouth for once, and resting quite nicely on his waist too. Or, more importantly, his hardon.

Logan’s breath stank of Malibu as he sloppily kissed Huna, practically slobbering all over them, almost suffocating them, though if he did they’d probably not have been aware at this point.

It felt good, balancing their weight between the wall against their back and their legs around Logan’s waist. They both liked rough, and holy hell did they get it.

Hunapo grabbed at Logan’s hair, pulling on a fistful of greasy, over-gelled wires, tugging viciously as he bit their bottom lip. Hunapo tasted the faintest hint of blood, and briefly wondered if they should be worried that that turned them on even more. Probably, but who cared?

His kissing slowed to tender then, fingers twirling their thick curls and thumbs rubbing their cheeks. Of course, this was absolutely lovely too.

“Hurry up,” they whispered onto his lips, “before we get arrested.”

“Why? For being too sexy?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Logan grinned stupidly. No, of course he wouldn’t care about the possibility of being caught or even thrown in jail for the night; it would just be a story to tell literally anyone who would listen, a mark of pride. And fucking hell would it be a story for them to tell as a couple. He’d clamp a hand on Huna’s shoulder and shake them affectionately as he beamed through his story, because Logan Cooper had neither morals nor a sense of shame. Unfortunately.

“Just fuck me already,” they hissed, wriggling against his boner, still trapped under his clothes.

“Really? You didn’t get enough yesterday?” he teased.

“Come on,” Hunapo knew a needy whine would tug on all of Logan’s strings, and oh boy did it work. They clung to Logan’s body as he unzipped his jeans, thankfully not dropping them to his ankles like a five year old at a urinal. The next thing they knew, his tool was rubbing against their arse crack, gentle at first but picking up pace fast.

“Get on with it!”

“Fucking hell fine.”

Logan didn’t bother to waste any more time, and got straight down to business. It was quick, rough and just the way they liked, Logan’s fingernails digging into their thighs and his face in their hair. He must’ve been pretty damn desperate though, because it was borderline painful and Huna wondered how they could get him to do it like this in the future.

“Yes, oh fuck yeah more,” they nibbled at his neck, “perfect. Oh Logan. Logan!” Inflating his ego further was never a good idea, but Logan revelled in his name being called. Gasped. Screamed.

“Ahem.”

Logan stilled as fast as he’d started, turning his head to find a pair of young women having just stumbled out the club- staring at them in horror. One had just lit up a fag too, the cigarette hanging limply in her hand.

“Evening ladies,” he greeted, before ignoring them and getting back to relentlessly pounding his other half.


	40. NedRo - Dirty Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW, sexual humiliation [I’m bad at dirty talk]
> 
> Notes: Gotta write this pairing more, and I felt really bad for leaving them out of the regular OTP challenge. Also building a sex dungeon is a perfectly acceptable thing to do together as a couple.
> 
> Adriaan- Netherlands
> 
> Alin- Romania

“You’re such a dirty little slut.”

Adriaan punctuated his sentence by cupping the man’s chin with the toe of his boot, rougher than intended but Alin just loved it. There was a menacing gleam to his eye that Adriaan knew wouldn’t be easy to extinguish. God he would try though.

Alin was on his knees, glaring up at him. Intimidating him. He’d have to try harder than that.

But Adriaan knew him, knew a large chunk of the inner workings of that eccentric mind of his. Alin had more kinks than a labourer’s back, and degrading dirty talk was way up at the top of that long list of fucked up shit that turned him on, something Adriaan was all too happy to help with.

Adriaan himself reclined in his chair, thick wood that looked like it should be used to electrocute mass murderers and was perfectly at home in his cellar. It was where Alin liked to do these things. The bed was for sentimental, sappy romance, for ‘I love you’s and rose petals and champagne. The cellar? Technically, that was where he stored his cheese and old family possessions of sentimental [but no other] value, but Alin constantly joked about it really being a sex dungeon. And then- with a drop dead serious expression- asked if it could become one.

Unfortunately, Adriaan still needed somewhere to store all his cheese and tat, so Alin had to make do with one corner filled with this secondhand chair and some fake chains bought last halloween to hang from the walls. For aesthetic. Their chair was older than both of them combined and damn could it give a nasty splinter if they weren’t careful, but it was the best they had. And to be honest, Alin just found it kinky.

“You’re mine, understand?” He pushed at Alin’s jaw, turning his head from side to side, drinking in that tanned face and the messy hair, slicked with sweat. His chest heaved and neck pulsed, glaring up in pseudo hatred, smirking, even.

Adriaan knew he wouldn’t come until he’d been stripped of all dignity.

He’d have to work fast then, because he was already more than a little aroused at the sight and scene and  _oh God_  Alin was beautiful.

His hands were tied behind his back like a prisoner, and both of them were naked with the exception of Adriaan’s boots, which were now resting on Alin’s shoulder like the man was a footstool. Normally, he’d force the man to light up a cigarette for him, but right now he couldn’t be bothered, and besides, he’d often wondered what it would be like to do this not completely high off his face.

“You’re absolutely worthless,” he drawled instead.

“I know- ma-”

Adriaan silenced him by spitting in his face.

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

Alin looked away. Adriaan leaned forward, grabbing at a clump of hair and almost tearing it from his scalp.

“Did. I give. You permission. To speak? Answer me, boy.”

“Permission now or before?” He grinned at that.

Adriaan didn’t know why it unnerved him, or sent a shiver down his spine. Even when they were like this. Even when he was doing his best to make Alin feel like the smallest man in the world, like complete scum, he always got the feeling that Alin was really the one in control, and it excited him more than he cared to say. He, for one, could appreciate a fellow schemer.

“Lick my boots clean,” he ordered with a bark, deciding it was best to kill the previous conversation before Alin got too cocky. He placed his boots in front of him, forcing him to bend down to reach them. Alin licked slowly, nervously, tongue darting and flicking as his face creased in disgust. Without warning, Adriaan jerked his knee up to catch him in the nose.

That was what happened to subs who talked back.

Alin licked the blood spouting from his nostrils, letting it dribble across his teeth and lips and grinning stupidly.

“No smiling allowed,” growled Adriaan, trying his best not to squirm.

Alin’s face fell immediately; that was more like it.

Deciding it was best to get on with things, Adriaan struck an arm forward, taking Alin’s cock in his hand and giving a twisting stroke, probably harder than needed. Alin replied with a groan.

“Did you like that?”

“Yes, master.”

“That’s because you’re a filthy slut.”

“May I have more, master?” Alin’s eyes gleamed; “touch me, master.”

He got another kick in the face for his cheek.

“Did I tell you to speak?” Adriaan snarled, “and to actually make demands? You shall be punished.”

He decided to pretend to ignore how hard that made the both of them. Man, they needed help.

“How so?” asked Alin, spitting blood.

In response, Adriaan grabbed him by the arms, yanking him onto his lap to sit on his erection, but not penetrate just yet. That would be giving Alin what he wanted.

“I’m going to pound you until you’re a crying, gibbering mess,” he hissed right in Alin’s pointy little face. “I fucking hate you, ya hear? I want you screaming that you are nothing compared to your master.”

“You have such wonderful ideas, master,” Alin replied with a wink, “that’s why you’re in charge and not me.”

“Shut up.” He dug his nails into Alin’s back, delighting in watching the other whine and wiggle.

“Please, master, have mercy,” Alin gasped, and even though it wasn’t their agreed safeword, Adriaan had to pause. What if he’d forgotten it?

“I’m fine,” Alin hissed in his ear, “just do me.”

“Since when were you allowed to give out orders,” with a murmur, Adriaan covered his face with a hand, twisting his head to the side and biting down on his shoulder. Alin never kept his teeth to himself, and it was high time he got a taste of his own medicine. He grabbed at Alin’s asscheeks too, knowing how cold his fingers got down here in the cellar [along with the rest of him], and how Alin would squirm at the shock.

He was rough, and unapologetic about it. Adriaan barely gave Alin time to get used to the sensation before assaulting him, thrusting as hard as he could manage, hands gripping at Alin’s thighs to move him too, fingers harsh and digging into his skin to make him bruise. Alin wasn’t allowed to move during these endless minutes of pain and pleasure wrapped into one blissful experience.

Alin had described how he felt during their sessions in great detail. The humiliation turned him on so much he was nearly unable to think whenever things got this far. Each scene they planned together brought them closer together, he felt, the fact that Adriaan was willing to do this for him strengthened their love, he believed. He loved their scenes and in all honesty, the thought made Adriaan want to stop right there and cuddle him close.

But there would be time for that later, and Alin wouldn’t appreciate him breaking character, so for now he simply got on with things.

As usual, he finished before Alin did, riding out his orgasm before pulling Alin off and rocking him on his thighs, gentle gentle to catch his breath. God what was Alin doing to him?

“Is it my tur-”

Adriaan slapped him in the face.

“Please can I co-”

Another slap.

“You want to come?” Adriaan kept his hands on Alin’s thighs. He was so fun to rile up.

“Yes, master.”

“Such a little slut…” he placed a single finger on the head of Alin’s penis. “Dungeon whore.”

“Master, help me master. I beg of you master, oh kind master, wise master.” Alin was shivering now. But he was in control. His eyes shone with the beginnings of tears, but the lights behind them were dead- for now-, and he was ready to come.

And he knew just what to say to make that happen, it seemed.

“I do have the best ideas,” he agreed, though Alin had been the one to mention worship when they first began planning these scenes.

“I will be generous,” he growled, “and I will let you come, seeing as there really isn’t much else in your pathetic little life.”

“You’re so kind,” Alin gasped.

“Not really sure you can tell if you’re hard with this little thing,” he commented as he roughly stroked the erection, pulling and twisting at it as hard as he dared. He didn’t comment on Alin’s whines, letting the man express his pleasure in his own way, and besides, he was kind of busy himself.

When Alin came, he was loud and proud, and Adriaan didn’t care. Once they were both finished, the scene was over and their personas fell away.

As the euphoria wore off and inhibitions replaced it, Alin teared up, like he usually did, and rested his head to sob on Adriaan’s shoulder.

“Hey, shh,” he soothed, voice heavy, “it’s all over. You did so well. Oh you did wonderfully my dear.” As much as Alin loved the high, the come down was rough on him, and Adriaan needed to build him up again now he no longer needed to tear him down.

“You think so?” the man choked.

“I know so. Oh dear you did so well, my favourite man.” He opened up the cuffs and rubbed Alin’s back, letting the other’s tears flow as he patted and soothed and stroked. Things always got a bit too much to handle, and Alin was a sensitive soul deep down, so the aftercare was more important than the scene itself to get right, in Adriaan’s eyes.

“I’m going to pick you up and tuck you into bed,” Adriaan promised, between kisses planted on his face, “then I’ll get out all that food I made for you and we’ll snuggle up together and have some dinner. Would you like that?”

He knew his larger hands made Alin feel safe, his arms made him feel warm and secure. He didn’t want to degrade Alin, or hurt him.

“I’d love that,” whispered Alin, face buried in his chest. “I’d love that a lot.”


	41. TurkFin - Dom/Sub

“I said, lie back on the bed.”

His voice was calm, smooth and barely hiding its jovial undertones, churning out orders like a sadistic army officer who delighted in the pain and suffering of those under him. Well, in a way…

Tino’s boots clomped and clanked against the wooden floorboards as he walked around the room, letting them both know he was in control of the situation, the master, the big boss. He was in charge here, the only other living being in the room nothing but a plaything, his slave to do as he pleased. He held his head high, fingering his mini whip to let the other know he was a flick of the wrist away from a whole world of pain.

It was the only way Sadik could learn: a good spanking.

Tino looked the part in his latex and lace, all fishnets and straps with his thigh-high boots tight against his skin. He’d decided to forgo one of his masks today; he wanted Sadik to know what he was damn feeling tonight and wanted him to read it across his little round face.

“You’re not listening, are you?” his lips curled into a snarl.

Sadik was wearing nothing but a collar and ankle chains, lead trailing down his chest to pool at his feet. He was hunched in the corner, the only space Tino would allow him, besides the bed.

But it seemed Sadik was being a little contrary and didn’t want to get on the bed.

Tino made a point to remain slow as he crossed the room, careful not to lose his composure. He made sure to emphasise every footstep, every insignificant movement, slapping the whip across his palm to let Sadik know he was going to be punished severely.

“You don’t want to lie on the bed?” he asked, giving his head the tiniest of turns. His lilac eyes- normally so soft and sweet- boring into his uppity little sub.

“No,” Sadik replied, holding his gaze.

“What’s that?” Tino knew how to look terrifying when he wanted to. And sometimes without even realising. He raised his eyebrows at the disobedience, eyes wide and smile completely fake.

“No.” How Sadik still had a nerve about him was beyond Tino. Most people would be quivering by now.

“Oh really?” his voice was thin, wispy, and laced with malice. “Well I think you’re in need of some encouragement.”

His arm moved like a striking snake, striking him across the chest with his whip.

“You think that’s gonna teach me?” oh Sadik loved winding him up, pushing all his little buttons to try and make him lose his cool, domineering aura.

It was their little game.

Tino loved being on top and in control, as did Sadik. Their agreement was to switch each time, but damn neither liked being bossed around, so it had become a tradition to be as unhelpfully disobedient as possible. They both loved it.

As usual, Tino didn’t want to let on the full extent of his arousal- that would be letting Sadik win.

He yanked on the lead, pulling Sadik onto his knees to whip his backside yet more times.  

“Oh that’s good,” Sadik moaned.

“Shut up!”

“Make me.”

Well… Tino couldn’t refuse that, now could he? He threw Sadik onto his back, leaning down to kiss him roughly, trailing his whip up the man’s thick thighs, slapping gently where he could. Boy did Sadik love a rough snog.

“Now, will you get on the damn bed?” he hissed out, nose brushing against Sadik’s.

“Only if you plan to do more of that,” he replied cheekily.


	42. SuFin - Bondage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t look at me this pairing was perfect for this prompt, the kinky dads. I don’t know if I judge myself more for writing this or for having this headcanon for Berwald’s… interests. I feel sorry for my google having to look this shit up.
> 
> Warning: bondage, forniphilia, nsfw

The sound of a riding crop hitting leather resounded throughout the room, Berwald giving a grunt of pleasure but unable to say anything due to the ball gag in his mouth. A little redundant, Tino supposed, but it was something they both found hot, not to mention furniture was supposed to remain completely silent. And if Berwald wanted to stop, all he had to do was raise his arm. Tino wasn’t sure he’d say much even without it digging into his skin and leaving him a dribbling mess.

So unlike his usual self it was hot. Not that Berwald wasn’t normally…  

Tino moved the riding crop downward to strike his partner’s bare arse, peeking out of his jumpsuit quite nicely. Another grunt. He struck again and this time found himself staring down at a little red mark. He reached down to rub it gently, jiggling and fondling Berwald’s arse as he went. He couldn’t help it. Berwald may be a shameless masochist, but Tino still guilted over every little mark, as much as he loved them too. He loved being able to see them the next morning, peeking just barely from the top of his turtleneck- and across his chest and back when they first wake up- the ownership of it. Berwald was his and his alone. No one else could have him, and they both revelled in it.

But Berwald was a big softy and it killed Tino to see him in pain. Even when that pain was consensual and making him harder than a Greek statue [although significantly more well endowed].

Another strike, and he could see Berwald blinking back tears of joy. And maybe pain too.

“Do you want more?” He pulled at Berwald’s hair as he hissed in his ear, standing on his tiptoes to do so. To his credit, Berwald didn’t buckle or topple, or move besides allowing his head to be pulled back.

He gave a firm nod at the question.

“Do you want it harder?”

Another nod. Tino could see the begging in his eyes.

“No problem, honey;” a kiss on the cheek was given seconds before an almighty whack. Tino revelled in being a sadist, but he was a loving husband first and foremost. Another, and another, and there were tears streaming down Berwald’s face.

Despite trying his best to look like a candle holder, Berwald looked glaringly out of place in their sitting room, amongst crocheted blankets and family photos, illuminated by the light of a roaring fire.

Berwald himself was wrapped in tight leather, save for holes over his arse, shoulder blades, chest and chode, holding a tray of candles out in front of him and knowing if he dropped them, the carpet and a large chunk of the house would go up in flames.

So the moment his arms got tired, he would give the signal and Tino would take the tray off him.

On top of all that were the ropes tying him in place, spreading his legs and making sure the only parts of him that could move were his arms and neck, and only barely.

The candles were a new idea, never tried by them before. Usually, Berwald would pretend to be a table with a wooden plank on his back, or curled up into a chair. Once they attached stretches of washing line to nipple clamps and hung lingerie out to dry, but that had been a bit too much of a strain on Berwald’s poor nipples. Tino’s personal favourite was tying Berwald to the dining table and eating bowls of sweets off his naked body.

“You’re doing so well,” he commented, knowing how much Berwald loved being complimented- though he’d never say it- and how it made him a mess of mushy peas deep down. He was an affectionate man and needed love.

And a good spanking.

Another slap, and Tino moved to his front, Berwald’s eyes following him as candlelight flickered across his face. Every little line and wrinkle became a home to the shadows of his face. They were getting on in years now, and most people would be beginning to think about taking things slower, but not Tino and Berwald. They had a lot to give each other just yet. “If you want to come, just give me the signal.”

Berwald nodded his head. Tino’s smile widened as he removed the cock ring from his husband’s erection and began to pump, torturously slow. “Oh you well and truly deserve this, love. You did so brilliantly.”

Berwald smiled at that, a struggle as he tried to shape his lips around the gag.

Tino continued to stroke, playing with the head in a way he knew Berwald liked, gentle and caring and with a great deal of attention. Berwald, as much as he loved spoiling his husband, longed to be spoilt deep down, be given all the attention he was too scared to ask.

But Tino  _knew_. After all this time he knew Berwald inside out, quite literally thanks to some of their more risque activities.

Yeah, he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember that.

This, however, he wanted to treasure until he became old and forgot his own name.

“I love you Ber,” he murmured, “you know that, right?”

He got a nod in reply.

“I want to make you feel good,” he added, “I want to make you feel special.” It was a bad habit, him talking over Berwald all the time, but at least now he had an excuse.

Berwald came with a grunt, nearly dropping the candles and Tino scooped them up before they tumbled to the ground. Setting the candles down, he got to work untying Berwald before he collapsed from exhaustion, unbuckling all the cuffs and wishing he’d not tied the ropes so tight. He undid the ball gag, massaging Berwald’s cheeks and kissing him softly, all over his face.

“Was great,” he muttered at last, heaving with exhaustion.

“You were, oh Ber you were wonderful,” Tino kissed him again before leading him to the sofa, “here, sit down and relax, and take all that off; it must be chaffing.” He faffed about looking for blankets as Berwald peeled the leather off his skin. “How about we snuggle up together? I’ll relight the fire. Would you like that?” He turned back, blankets in hand, to find Berwald giving a tired nod. His eyes drooped as he lay back in the sofa, now completely naked and rubbing at red patches on his skin.

“Like that,” he muttered.


	43. LuxMold - Bloodplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly only one of two LuxMolds. I must admit I’m absolute trash for shitty cliche vampire romance [minus the stalking and watching people sleep] and dark supernatural romance. I know. Also, scared of blood and veins, likes bloodplay. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But it’s made me even more nervous about my upcoming blood test.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW, blood, death, vampire stuff

Luca’s icy clouds of breath nearly blinded him as he moved, scrambling over stones and ruins, tripping on clumps of long grass as he hissed out his frustration at each and every little cut on the palm of his hand. These weren’t hands made for withstanding pain. There were no callouses, no scars, just the soft, dainty skin of a boy who only allowed the very finest in his life.

Right now though, they were dirty and scraped, like the rest of him. His clothes were ruined with mud and grass stains, far too thin for this freezing winter morning, with its grey sky threatening to spill snow at any minute.

The world around him was most greying indeed, from the lifeless trees spanning for miles all round, to the ruins of the castle looming over him. He stood out horribly, with his gold threads and silk tunic, and the pink cheeks so full of life. It would be so easy for him to be found, stalked, picked off. In fact, all the way here he’d felt watched, sure he was being followed. The feeling manifested itself in the mounting coil in his back, like his spine was the string of a violin, being plucked and played and about to snap under the knife of tension.

He glanced behind him, but once again there was no one there.

He didn’t know why he thought the castle might offer him shelter, or clues to the whereabouts of the boy he was looking for, but it was as good a place to search as any, and maybe he could spend the night there.

The sun had dipped below the trees now, and even up on this little hill the world was dim and dull.

Luca slipped in the snow once more, cutting the palm of his hand on a rock. The tiniest trickle of red made its way down to his sleeve, and he wiped his hand on his already ruined tunic. An invisible pressure on his spine caused him to wheel round once more.

He was alone.

Luca continued with his climb, in through the doors ripped from their hinges hundreds of years ago by cannonfire. The castle was in shambles, anything of value long looted and the walls crumbling as they were strangled by ivy and weeds. Water dripped from the cracks in the ceiling, flagstones cracked and covered in dirt and dust. There were so many cobwebs Luca wasn’t sure if he wanted to proceed or not.

But he needed to find  _him_.

So he ventured forward, past the broken grand staircase, to a little room off to the side of the entrance hallway, one with a door covered in broken cobwebs and preceded by a scuffed path of dirt. Perfect.

Luca didn’t dare call a name as he peered inside, shuffling forward in the near-complete darkness. It was another hallway, thin and dark and he tripped as he stumbled forward. Luca had to wonder if this was a smart idea at all, after all, there could be anyone in here. Anything. A monster waiting to rip him apart like before.

He would die down here for sure.

A room at the end of the corridor. Flies swarmed around the handle and the place stank of rotting flesh, as if weeks old blood had seeped into the floor, wood, stone, everything. Luca wanted to turn back, but he feared whatever had been following him would be waiting outside.

So he opened the door, coming face to face with a tiny mess of a room. The dwelling was in no way fit for human habitation: filthy and covered in the dried blood and guts of woodland creatures, along with a shivering pile of rags.

There he was.

But before Luca could call his name, a creature erupted from the pile of rags and knocked him back.

…

Luca shivered behind his brother, seeing nothing but the torches of the knights in the distance. He cowered at the sounds of forest creatures, mixed in with the snapping twigs below their feet. The air was frozen completely, his clothes damp and icy, boots useless and hands numb and red, and all he wanted was the thick sheets of his bed and a roaring fire to defrost him. But no. This was his idea and he had to finish the mission.

Andrei would’ve done the same for him.

Every so often, the knights would bark out orders and updates, usually to let them all know their search was still fruitless.

“I fear we may need to turn back,” his brother murmured to him, scarf wrapped tightly around his face to keep out the chill.

“No,” Luca hissed, louder than intended, “come on. My servant would never stop searching until he found me.”

“That may be because he is your manservant and it was his job to serve you,” his brother replied with a sigh, “I know he has been a true friend over the years, but you can hire another young man and you will soon forget about that Radacanu boy.”

“That’s not how things work; it’s not how people work.” Luca rolled his eyes at that. His brother’s own manservant- the older Radacanu brother- meant the world to the man, but he’d be damned if he admitted it to anyone.

And Luca would be damned if he admitted the full extent of his affections for Andrei, quite literally. It was against everything he knew and thought he stood for, not least because the boy was a servant.

Which was why he was pretty keen to find Andrei nice and alive and unscathed. But he’d settle for alive at this point.

It was his fault anyway.

All Luca needed to do was mention something once, and Andrei did his best to provide it, no matter the personal cost. That was probably why, when they’d discussed whether the legend of the blue rose was true- and if they really grew around the old castle- Andrei had set off in the dead of night to find one.

And not come back in a month.

It seemed the boy had forgotten the other legend, the one of monsters in the woods that picked off anyone who wandered alone. Or in small groups. They lived off the fear and blood of the youth, delighting in the chase, the struggle, how their prey writhed and wriggled beneath them in a futile attempt to escape death before growing cold and still. People didn’t go in the woods, especially at night and especially without a convoy.

And now Andrei was probably dead, all thanks to Luca and his big mouth.

Luca knew he was wasting time and resources, and that his family’s knights were not meant for these sort of tasks, but he would not rest until he knew one way or another. To the outside world, he looked merely materialistic, a prince who didn’t like his property being taken from him, even if that property were a lowly servant. Luca knew it was nothing like that, but if it kept suspicion away, so be it.

He doubted he’d be allowed many more excursions.

The knights were the bravest in the land, but even they feared the forest.

Another hiss, and more orders came from the vanguard, but Luca was too cold to care until a ball of furs and blood barreled into the furthest knight, ripping him apart before moving through them all with alarming speed. Before the knights could even draw their swords they were dead.

It was carnage. It was a bloodbath. The knights rallied against this invisible monster, but the dark of the night was on its side and it tore through them before Luca’s brother pulled him away, yanking at his cloak and screaming at him to run.

This was it. He would die out here.

Luca was never allowed in the forest again.

…

The back of his head throbbed and stung, hair thick and tangled, caked in thick, oozing liquids. Luca didn’t want to wake up. He knew he was dying. Any second now, his assailant would tear into him like it did his knights, and for the life of him he didn’t know why he was still alive.

Maybe, now it had all the time in the world, it would play with its food.

Luca knew he should’ve told someone where he was going, not that they’d be able to save him.

He opened his eyes, fearing the worst and not quite being able to comprehend the fact that there was no one was above him, ready to rip his throat out. He didn’t make a sound.

What was going on? He was supposed to be dead. Maybe he was. Was this hell? He hadn’t expected it to be so cold and lonely, and looking exactly like the room he’d died in.

“Oh, you’re awake. Thank God. I thought you’d been killed.” The weak, melancholy voice came from the corner of the room, and Luca ignored the throbbing in his brain to turn his head to the source of that excruciatingly familiar sound.

Andrei looked terrible. Even in the near-black light, Luca could see how rough his skin looked, like dried, cracked clay. He was deathly pale, and looked like a corpse. His servants clothes were ruined, replaced by furs and rags that didn’t seem capable of keeping out the winter chill, but the boy didn’t shiver. He didn’t move.

“Andrei?” Luca’s lips broke into a smile that cracked the skin, drawing blood. Andrei gulped.

“Tis I,” he sighed.

Luca couldn’t understand why he looked so sad. Even in their grim situation, he was overjoyed to find the boy alive. “I missed you, so much.”

“Likewise…” Luca was certain there was something different about Andrei’s voice.

“I would love to ask what happened,” explained Luca, “but I quite believe there’s a monster after us.”

“It won’t come; you’re safe here.”

“Did you rescue me?”

Andrei looked away.

“Matters not,” Luca flicked his hand, unable to lift it completely, “but what happened to you?”

It seemed like a hard story to get out, and Luca didn’t blame Andrei for not answering immediately. “I’m sorry sire.” Andrei only ever called him that in two scenarios: when they needed to keep up their master and servant personas, and when he wanted to distance himself from Luca, usually out of guilt.

“You should have stayed home,” he chided, “please, if we get out of this, never go off on your own again. You are far too precious to lose.”

Andrei was still refusing to look at him, mumbling into the furs clumped around his shoulders. “I wanted sire to be happy. I wanted sire to have his rose.”

“You are my rose,” Luca muttered. Well, at least that got a laugh out of him.

“Sire must never become a poet.”

“My thanks,” he replied flatly, “but you have not explained how you came to be here.”

And with that, the mood soured once more. Andrei seemed to shrink away from him, cramming his entire presence into one miniscule corner of the room. “As you must have realised, I was attacked. The legends are true; the foulest monsters lurk in this forest.”

“I know. I have seen them.” Luca decided to forgo mentioning just how many had died on his orders, died searching for Andrei.

“Then you are most fortunate to be alive.”

“Likewise, love.”

Andrei squirmed at that.

“So what happened?”

“It went for my neck, drained my blood, but I did not die. I do not know what that monster did, or why, but it kept me alive, but it dragged me back to its lair, and the rest of the pack.”

“As food?”

“As… as its newest member.” Andrei seemed on the verge of tears now, “that is why the monster that attacked you will not come: it is me. I am the monster and I will hurt you no more.”

Luca thought he would be sick. “What has it done to you?” This wasn’t happening. Andrei couldn’t have been turned into a monster. A vampyre. How could this earth me so cruel as to do something to someone as sweet as Andrei?

“Made me evil.”

“You’re not evil,” he tried to reach his hand out, but was too weak to move, “if you were, I would be dead already.”

Andrei raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It was you that attacked me, after all. Do you not think, if you were truly evil, that you would’ve killed me immediately? Not recognized me or cared for what we were?”

“I suppose,” the boy shrugged, “but it was the hardest thing in the world, not killing you. I could taste your fear in the air around you. It is the sweetest thing in the world to a vampyre: the terror your prey feels before death. I have no idea how I was able to resist it.”

“Love?” Luca tried.

Andrei snorted. “Or the fact that you were knocked out before I could kill you. Can’t feel fear if you’re unconscious.”

“It’s a starting point,” Luca told him, “I fear you are not giving yourself credit where it’s due again, but anyhow. We can work from here.”

“We are not working from anywhere,” Andrei spat with a wrinkle of his nose, “at the next light, you are going home, and I am staying in this castle until I rot.”

“Not happening,” Luca muttered.

“You will be safe in the morning. We cannot survive in sunlight.”

“I am not leaving without you.”

Andrei squirmed at that. “You have to.”

“Why? Will your pack get me? I am not scared of them. I will take you back to the castle and keep you safe where you cannot hurt yourself or others until you learn to control your powers. We will work through this together.”

“They are no longer my pack,” Andrei sighed, “we had a slight… disagreement and I broke free, a family of one, as it were.” He shrugged at that; “we did not like each others’ methods.”

“Meaning?”

“I did not want to kill,” Andrei sobbed, “to hunt humans like they were deer? I cannot! I will not!”

“You are stronger than you give yourself credit,” commented Luca, “so how come you hide here?”

“This hill is the territory I marked for myself,” Andrei laughed bitterly, rocking himself back and forth, “surrounded by theirs. I am an idiot! My plan for this curse was to live on the blood of animals, but so few venture here, and there is not a lot for me to hide behind when hunting them. Sure, there are ruins, but it is still out in the open. I am trapped and slowly starving.”

Quite the predicament then, Luca supposed. But what could they do? “Do you think, if you had your full strength, you could make it back to the castle- the city- alive?”

“It’s possible. I am outnumbered, but new vampyres are always the strongest, the wildest, with the least self control. I could fight them. But why would I want to do that?”

Luca rolled his eyes. “So I can get you help, protect you and the rest of the castle.”

“I’d kill someone,” he muttered.

“Then we will flee, somewhere far away. You could make your own territory.”

“What if I killed a member of your family?” Andrei did seem to be- ever so slightly- allowing hope to creep in, like the vines of their ruined fort.

“I would stop you before you did, and take you away.”

“You would be willing to walk away from the throne?”

Luca scoffed. “I recall mentioning that was always the plan, besides, I am third in line for the throne. I was never meant to be king.”

“But your home, your family, your life of luxury?”

“I can do without possessions;” there was no need to look so cynical, Radacanu, “and I feel it would not be the last time I see them. We would meet again.”

Andrei crawled away when Luca tried reaching for him. “Does not matter. I cannot even walk anymore.”

Gathering up every shred of fear and anticipation still left and suppressing it, Luca spoke with an even voice. “Bite me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Take some of my blood,” he explained, “you can get your strength back and we can make a run for it.”

“No!” Andrei was against the wall now, staring like Luca like the boy had slapped him, “I would kill you!”

“I trust you,” Luca insisted, “I do not fear you now, so you should be able to resist, right?”

“Fool.”

“Please, you have to try.”

“And what if I kill you?” he asked.

“I suspect you will eventually starve here, wallowing in guilt,” Luca replied after a moment’s thought.

“So not fun for anyone,” Andrei concluded.

“It  _is_  a gamble, I suppose,” Luca tried to give him a reassuring smile, “but think about if it pays off. You can go home, see your brother. Sleep in a bed. Admittedly in the dungeons until we can trust you to be let out, but it has to be better than here.”

Andrei stared at him for a good, long moment. “You really trust me that much? I am flattered.”

“I know you can do this. Come on. For me. For yourself.”

“Are you sure?” For the first time, Andrei inched closer.

“Yes. Bite me.”

Andrei cupped his face, shaking with restraint as he moved his mouth to Luca’s bared neck. He held him tenderly, swaying with exhaustion as he struggled to stay upright. The boy knew he didn’t have long. He knew he would be dead within hours without human blood, but still he hesitated from sinking his fangs into that beautiful, tantalising neck. What if he killed Luca? He’d have weeks before he starved. Oh he’d throw himself into the sunlight long before that happened.

He couldn’t be the one to murder his prince. His love. 

But Luca trusted him, and it was that thought that allowed him to take a bite.

He struck like a snake, not giving Luca time to back out or get used to the pain before gulping down whole mouthfuls of blood, the person he once was lost in the primal urge to not let go. 

To keep drinking.

Luca had never known pain like it, but he also felt strangely happy about it too. He couldn’t help it, but he loved the smell and sight of blood staining his clothes and Andrei’s jaw. He didn’t know why it made him feel like this, like only Andrei could when no one was around, but he enjoyed the sensation nonetheless.

Quite shamelessly, he gave a moan of pleasure.

His heart grew weak, a cold spreading over his body, but still Andrei drank. When the sounds of pleasure turned to pleas, he didn’t let go. Luca tried not to let his fear get to him, knowing there would then be no way for Andrei to resist, so opted for annoyance when he pushed him feebly.

Andrei broke away with a look of horror.

“I was- I was going-”

“But you didn’t,” Luca only had time to mouth before Andrei was back, this time licking as a stab of pain followed his tongue.

“My spit heals wounds,” Andrei explained, “you know, for when we don’t want out prey to bleed to death. Are you okay?”

“A little woozy, but I will live,” Luca smiled at that, “you look so much better, alive even.”

Okay, maybe not alive, but the cracks in Andrei’s skin had healed up, and there was a twinkle in his eye once more.

“You certainly made some… interesting noises there,” he commented with a grin, “something you want to tell me?”

That blood turned him on? Why no, he didn’t want to mention it, ever, but Andrei was shrewd enough to figure it out for himself.

“Say,” he purred, “you cannot be going anywhere today, so what do you say we do something to pass the time?” He placed a hand on Luca’s chest, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh? I’d like that… very much.”


	44. AusHun - Lingerie

Érzsebét wasn’t sure if she should mention that Roderich was terribly unsubtle about his kinks, no matter how much he tried to hide them, repress them out of shame and embarrassment. She’d tried explaining that they had nothing to hide, and if she could disclose all her kinks [namely powerplay] to him, he should feel safe doing the same with her. She just wanted the both of them to be happy together, after all.

But after he’d started leaving obvious hints and slipping up, she could, in a way, see why he was keen to keep that part of him a secret.

The piano thing had been easy to find out, for a start. All she did was jump on the thing to get his attention, and… well… that had been an interesting night and boy had she been keen to repeat that as often as she could. She could most certainly get on board with the piano kink, so what did he have to fear? He loved the piano and loved her, and the idea of combining the two was perfect for him.

Using food had been more of a disaster, but still relatively fun. And more socially acceptable than anything involving instruments, she supposed.

This, however, seemed by far the most normal, and easy for her to accept without alcohol. Lingerie. What was so weird about lingerie? Even she liked a bit of lingerie every now and again- some stocking and a corset, lovely- so was more than happy to let Roderich order her some, after picking out the perfect set from that catalogue he, unsubtly, kept under the bed.

What hadn’t occurred to her was that he meant for himself to wear lingerie too.

Still, she wasn’t about to complain as he stepped out of the en suite in his corset and little lacy briefs. Roderich wore a corset normally, to hide those naughty cakes he indulged in after dinner, but this was something that did not deserve to be covered by a shirt, with its ribbon and beads and gold pattern on pale cream.

Érzsebét wasn’t sure if she was aroused or jealous of how steady he was in heels, but damn did his legs look good in them.

“You look incredible, dear,” she reassured him as she crossed them room to give her husband a kiss, on the nose and cheeks and everywhere else. Oh God he was so cute when he was flustered.

“As do you,” Roderich spluttered, red in the face.

“Oh I know.” Érzsebét’s corset had a skirt trailing out behind her, but her underpants were in full view, loud and proud. Her white stockings came up nearly to her hips, held in place by suspenders and she could see Roderich was unable to tear his eyes away, glasses now steamed up.

“Like what you see?” she asked with a swish of the hips.

Roderich could only nod in reply.


	45. LuxMold - Sweet and Passionate

Luca knew how to do romance, how to play it to his advantage and how to revel in it. It was his middle name, along with Henri, Gabriel and Benjamin. 

Even when he’d been single, he knew how to treat himself, to relax in the bath surrounded by candles and bath salts with a deep red glass of wine. Every day, he dressed like he had someone to meet or come home to, even if he was just going shopping. His home was decorated with romance in mind, from his collection of floral paintings and the loveseat in the corner of his sitting room to the four poster bed he lay sprawled across in silk pyjamas wondering what it would be like to share his life with someone special. 

Even masturbation was a serious topic for him- as well as a deeply private one- something that would only happen in the deepest darkest night, playing out a fantasy only found in the cheapest, cheesiest, most erotic of novels.

Not that he knew the content of such filth.

And now Andrei was in his life? Luca threw himself into the relationship like it was a lifeline, showering Andrei with affection normally reserved for his siblings and puppy. His seven year old, big-as-a-goat puppy. 

He was the perfect gentleman: holding doors and chairs for Andrei; buying him pots of plants because he knew how much the other hated seeing flowers die; taking him to all the most beautiful spots he knew, from parks to rivers and canals. 

He couldn’t paint, or even draw- but appreciate art- but he could write. He had an anthology of poems stored away from the world, the most recent all dedicated to Andrei, though the other man could never know of them. They were far too cheesy. And at times inappropriate.

What Andrei could know was how much Luca loved giving gifts. What Luca couldn’t understand was how Andrei could never accept them.

Luca never cared who was watching as he held Andrei’s hand, kissed him, declared his undying, eternal, love. He was a romance exhibitionist, and wanted the world to know he was absolutely infatuated.

Andrei, however, preferred more subtler approaches to romance. 

He kissed on the cheek to greet, then kept his distance until they were alone. He couldn’t afford the watches and rings he knew Luca liked, and hated being given such expensive presents in return, but he always made sure Luca’s home wasn’t cold and impersonal, knitting and crocheting and quilting furiously, clothes and blankets and decorations he knew Luca would always say he loved. He wondered if it were true. He kept them about his house so it had to be, right?

Andrei was used to being discreet; it had saved his skin many times in the past and couldn’t understand why Luca wasn’t more afraid. Not that he ever wanted Luca to be scared of anything, let alone love.

For Andrei, love was good food with people he cared about all around the one table. Love was singing together. It was being snuggled up under knitted blankets, not whatever books and sappy films Luca had spent his life taking notes from.

But he was happy to let his boyfriend have his fun.

And when it came to taking things further, Luca had been a complete sweetheart.

Their first time was nerve-wracking enough for Andrei, but Luca made sure he was comfortable, looked after. It was when his image of romance really came into the limelight.

Andrei remembered their first time vividly.

Luca had pulled out all the stops to make the night unforgettable. When Andrei wandered into his boyfriend’s bedroom, he’d been assaulted with the sight of thousands of- thankfully fake- rose petals littered across the floor and bed. Classical music played softly in the background and more fake flowers trailed up the bedposts, along with strings of lights. Luca had even bought a collection of heart-shaped cushions for the bed, and a new satin quilt.

Luca himself was laying on his side, fingertips trailing along a bucket of champagne and box of chocolates on a silver tray. He’d even bought new silk pyjamas for the occasion and had a rose between his teeth.

All in all, it was the most cheesy, brilliant sight Andrei had ever clapped eyes on. Okay, he’d have to take it all back: Luca’s idea of romance was the best thing in existence.


	46. GhanIre - In a Public Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna waste a day doing oc stuff, but I don’t care; I keep neglecting this pairing. Plus, I want to try writing these two and actually get a feel for their characters.
> 
> Warning: NSFW, explicit, alcohol, one drugs reference
> 
> Muirgheal- Ireland
> 
> Adjua- Ghana
> 
> Patricia- Montserrat

She probably should’ve gone straight home, as Muirgheal had told herself every night for the past month. She should’ve relieved the babysitter, helped her daughter with her homework, made dinner and watched a bit of telly before bed. And maybe finish that knitted scarf for a special someone who was not taking to the cold at all well.

Well, she still  _would_ , but not after a little drink first.

It was the pub’s fault, really, for hiring such a cute bartender.

Adjua always seened happy to see her, and everyone else, if she was being honest. The girl always had a smile and a joke, maybe even a song if she still had the energy, and Muirgheal adored her for that. And she adored her singing too, melodic and chipper, tapping out a beat on the bar counter as she chirped with a grin.

Adjua was perfect.

And Muirgheal was falling for her hard.

“Why the face?” the girl asked as Muirgheal climbed onto a stool like the tiny old biddy she was. Adjua smiled her dazzling smile, leaning on the counter as she slid over a shot of whiskey, Muirgheal’s usual.

“This is my normal face, ya eejit,” Muirgheal replied jokingly. It was their little routine by now. “You try working in a field all day from arse crack dawn to,” he glared at her watch, “oh crap, I’m missing Fair City.”

“You say that every day,” Adjua noted with amusement, “that drink must be rotting your brain.”

“Stop serving it to me then,” she shot back, handing over her glass, “same again.”

“But you’re our best customer,” replied Adjua coyly, “your tips pay my rent.”

“Here’s a tip for you: is milis dá ól é ach is searbh dá íoc é.”

Adjua raised an eyebrow as she handed Muirgheal a full glass. “Meaning?”

“It is sweet to drink but bitter to pay for it.”

“Well I know you will pay,” Adjua grinned at that.

Muirgheal raised one of her unfortunate eyebrows. “Oh? And how do you know that?”

“Because you will want to see me again,” she chirped, “and you can’t do that if you’re barred.”

“Well there’s no need to go that far,” Muirgheal muttered as she squirmed, knowing full well her face was flushed right now. 

“Oh, of course.” A moment of awkward silence settled between them before Adjua shifted. “How’s the child?”

“Patsy? Oh she’s grand,” and Muirgheal was off. Talking about her daughter was easy, and she could sit for hours explaining all her funny little ways, from her dancing to rather poor cricket skills, and how she was already running rings around the rest of her year group in P.E. She could describe in detail Patsy’s little mischievous grin and the way her mess of hair bobbed and flew about the place at each little movement.

And when she eventually ran out of things to talk about, she moved on to the latest gossip about her neighbours and farmer workmates and whoever else she’d ran into during the day.

“Oh,” Muirgheal started with a blush, “how’s the father?” Why did she always forget to ask? Oh, right. She just loved talking that much. And now it was painfully late, there weren’t that many people left in the pub, and she was bound to get an earful off the babysitter.

“Daddy’s eye’s still sore,” Adjua explained, “and he’s a bit bad-tempered, but on the mend.”

“Oh, good to hear; I’ll pop some soup and a jumper round. Not used to the cold, is he?”

“No and me neither,” Adjua exclaimed with a shiver. “What is with this country?”

“Scientists say that it may be the weather,” replied Muirgheal.

“Haha, but seriously,” Adjua leaned across the table, voice low, “I am struggling to stay warm in this weather.”

“Oh, well I can pop a jumper round to you too,” Muirgheal assured her. Why did Adjua look disappointed? Had she wanted a shawl instead? Gloves? She could knit the lot if that’s what cutie-face wanted.

Did she really just call Adjua Dedei ‘cutie-face’? What the hell was in that whiskey?

“Well what am I going to do to warm up now?” Chin resting on a hand, Adjua wiggled her eyebrows.

Muirgheal simply offered her her full glass. “Usually helps me.”

“Oh? Well I was thinking something more along the lines of…” he leaned forward to whisper something in Muirgheal’s ear, something that made the woman turn an alarming shade of scarlet.

“You dirty rotten bastard!” she exclaimed, “I never heard such filth in my life!”

“Oh,” Adjua looked away, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I thought you felt the same…”

“Well I never said I didn’t,” Muirgheal was quite sure she was about to faint, “I just never expected… that… from you.”

“Are you up for it though?” asked Adjua.

“I suppose, but…” This felt so wrong, no matter how much she’s thought about it. “You’re just a kid. You can’t be much older than my Pat.”

“I’m twenty five,” Adjua replied flatly.

“And I’m forty.”

The girl’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You look good for it.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Muirgheal warned.

“Aren’t you the people who invented Blarney?” asked Adjua.

“Why don’t you crack open a history book and see where it got us.”

“Are we doing this or what?”

Muirgheal glanced around. “What? Here? People will see, sure.”

Adjua facepalmed at that. “Look, meet me in the bathroom in two minutes. I am taking a short break.”

“To do- Christ on a bike how long do they give you for breaks?” Muirgheal finished her drink as she watched Adjua slip into the women’s bathroom, waiting as long as she could before following. Okay, a toilet wasn’t the most ideal place to do anything- not even go to the toilet- but it had been a while and Muirgheal couldn’t help being a little excited.

“Try not to think of your surroundings,” Adjua advised before shoving the other into the cleanest cubicle.

“Oh please,” scoffed Muirgheal, “Pat was conceived in a field.”

Well, that nearly killed the mood. “You know,” said Adjua, “I could’ve gone my whole life just fine without knowing that.” But she soon changed her tune, hopping onto the toilet tank and yanking her knickers down. “Come here you,” she purred, beckoning with a finger.

“Um,” Muirgheal inched forward, catching her cheek in a quick, chaste kiss. “I haven’t done this in a while, especially with a woman.”

“Just give it a rub and stick your fingers up there,” Adjua told her before closing the distance between them, kissing her sloppily. Blunt. Nice.

Muirgheal soon got into things, trying not to think too hard in case this was all a dream. Even just the idea of her having sex was a little too unrealistic, let alone with the one reason she kept going to this shitty little pub, away from friends, family and workmates.

Adjua had to guide her hand up her skirt, Muirgheal fraught with nerves. Once in place, she began to rub, slowly and cautiously at first.

“We don’t have long,” Adjua hissed, “anyone could come in any second now.” Yes, but they’d probably be too busy doing a line to really care.

“Do you want me to hurry?” teased Muirgheal, “say the magic word, young lady.”

“Please,” Adjua hissed, “give it to me, old lady.”

“Don’t call me old.” Muirgheal moved over to the hole, rubbing and slipping in a pair of fingers a little too viciously. Since when did Adjua know how to push her buttons? She didn’t even know she had buttons to push.

She seemed to get what she wanted though, almost melting against the wall and making a face like she was smelling a whole room of her favourite food.

“Oh God, more please,” she panted.

“Kids these days,” muttered Muirgheal, “will ya just calm down already?”

“No.  _More_.”

“Fucking hell,” she cried, “so needy. Gimme here.” She added another finger, pumping faster, using her thumb to rub and nearly smothering Adjua with kisses. Running on instinct, she grabbed a tit with her free hand, amazed at how much larger they were, and not saggy too!

Adjua almost squeaked as she came, chest heaving in Muirgheal’s hand, but she was too fascinated to let go. She fell forward, throwing her arms around the slimmer woman to ride off her orgasm, not able to speak for a full minute.

“Your turn now,” she muttered in Muirgheal’s ear before flipping her over.


	47. TurkInd - On the Floor

Well today had been the mother and father of awful days at work, and every muscle in Sadik’s body was now a mess of knots and aches, tension winding him up like a coil of anger and a tempter shorter than his stylish, trimmed beard.

His and Heracles prank war was getting out of hand, Sadik had decided after having to scoop glitter out of every orifice of furniture in his corner office, only to find all his invoices had also been replaced by photos of Nicolas Cage. A month’s worth of invoices.

He was going to choke that stupid lazy cat-loving fuckcheese with his own scraggly hair.

And to top it all off, he’d forgotten his lunch and thought he would pass out from hunger all day. Luckily though, he’d had plenty of time during his lunch break to complain all about this to his boyfriend on the phone, who hadn’t had a lot of sympathy, given that it was Sadik who started the prank war.

What? It… no, Sadik didn’t have an excuse here.

At least he was home now, he decided as he struggled to not collapse on the welcome mat, closing the door and wondering where the hell Arjun was. He had a big house, but he could still hear when Sadik came home, usually with a smile and a kiss or a good-natured nag.

But today there was nothing. Not a peep.

Oh that was fantastic. Arjun had probably gone out so he wouldn’t have to listen to Sadik’s complaining for a few hours. Fair enough, he supposed.

With a grumble, he wandered into the kitchen to salvage his packed lunch from the fridge, only to find it had been replaced by a sticky note.

What the fuck now? This wasn’t the time for stupid games. Sadik was starving and on the verge of slapping a motherfucker into next month if he didn’t get something to eat.

He glanced down at the note, containing three, simple words: in the pavilion. It was his boyfriend’s writing alright, loopy and curvy and taking up the entire paper. But what was he and the food doing there? If there was food, in any case.

The pavilion was situated right at the back of Arjun’s lavish, spectacularly large garden, right next to the boating lake. It was a good five minutes walk, but worth it just for the beauty of the thing- white marble arches surrounded by trees, orange and red this time of year and littering the paths and banks in brightly coloured leaves. Sadik thought it was the most beautiful place on earth.

But he was in a bad mood and didn’t care right now.

So he set off, out into the garden to follow the quickest path to the lake. It was cold outside, as he was aware of from his journey home, and Sadik wrapped his coat tighter around him as he grumbled to himself. 

But the pavilion was different now. Sadik must’ve been more tired than he thought, because it took him a good minute to notice the walls of the building were curtained by numerous brightly-coloured drapery, thin and silky and dripping with beads, like the ones Arjun hung around his bed that Sadik loved stroking and wrapping round his shoulders.

What the hell was going on now?

Sadik drew closer, peering in through the curtains to find the most fabulous, brilliant sight beyond his wildest fantasies.

Arjun lay stark-naked on a pile of cushions and decorated rugs, a silver tray piled with a selection of Indian sweets covering Little Arjun. Around him, the floor was covered in petals and flowers between islands of candles and incense, the only light besides the faint evening sunlight through the thin drapery. And, thankfully, there was an outdoor heater behind him.

“What’s this?” he asked, incredulous.

“A surprise,” replied Arjun, “I hope this will cheer you up, petal.”

“How did you do all this though? In a few hours?” His jaw dropped as he ventured in, twirling to take in all the detail. There was even a tiny water feature in the corner, dragged in from the outside.

“It wasn’t so hard;” Arjun gave a shrug.

“But… for me? Why?”

“To cheer you up?” As if it were obvious, Arjun waved his hand, “so I created a little wonderland for you. Now come here and have dessert. And under this tray is the second course.”

“I am extra hungry,” Sadik agreed, moving forward to kneel in front of Arjun and take a sweet. “Did you make these?”

“Naturally.”

“And the second course?” he added cheekily.

“Come and find out.” With that, Arjun set down the plate and placed a hand on his chest, letting Sadik sink into a bed of pillows. “I’m going to take all your stresses away, petal.”

“That would be fantastic,” purred Sadik, “just one thing though…”

“Anything.”

He glanced at the tray. “Could I have the sweets first?”


	48. LuxSeyCy - Morning Lazy Sex

He was the newest member of their little ‘family’, and both of them wanted to make sure he didn’t feel awkward, or intruding. They also loved making him feel special.

Luca Morgens had been a mutual friend they’d both harboured a rather shameful crush on. Stelios and Angie were in a loving, committed relationship, so this attraction to another had been horrifying for the both of them.

Ever-the-honest Stelios had confessed it first, emphasizing that he still loved Angie the most, and she in return replied with some amusement that she felt the same way.

So what to do?

He’d suggested polyamory partially in jest, but the idea actually seemed like a decent solution to her. The only thing left was to see how Luca felt.

So they asked him. Well, it wouldn’t hurt, right?

Luca told people they’d seduced him; Angie and Stelios knew better. He’d been nervous to agree, at first, out of his depth of understanding, as much as he’d wondered what a relationship with the other two would be like. Luca wanted it, but he wanted them to guide him through it. And they were more than happy to. It had taken a few months now, but Luca was thawing heavily, moved in and one of the family.

Luca got awkward easily though, so Stelios and Angie liked to treat him, make him feel wanted. They’d been together years but Luca was new, and in some ways still felt like he was the outsider. That he was intruding, surplus, even.

But he wasn’t and they both loved him. And wanted him to know that.

Angie had the beginnings of a plan as she began to wake him up, rubbing a hand over his thigh from under the bedcovers. When the three of them were relaxed like this, in the hazy morning with no work or responsibilities, it was rare but beautiful, and she was determined to make the most of it. Luca gave a whine in reply. When he began to stir, she trailed kisses along his cheek and neck, as next to him, Stelios also woke up with bleary eyes, not fully awake but already working on the other side of his neck.

Luca shot up, sitting bolt upright with panic across his face, not even noticing that he’d headbutted Stelios in the process.

“I have my French exam today,” he whispered hurriedly, and Angie pushed him back down with a gentle hand.

“You’re twenty five,” she told him, “you don’t go to school anymore.”

“Oh good,” he muttered, before shooting back up again, “mercy I’m late for work!”

“It’s your day off, dear.”

Luca barely had time to calm down before Stelios was on his neck again.

“It’s your lucky day off,” the man added.

“Oh indeed,” Angie ducked down under the covers to play with his dick. Lucky they all slept naked so she didn’t have to fiddle with any pyjamas. Luca gave a long groan as she placed her lips around the head, licking and massaging as she inched a hand forward to stroke and pump the shaft.

“Well… this is a treat,” Luca managed to splutter out, one hand on the back of Stelios’ head, the other massaging Angie’s curls. His eyes closed, still half-asleep but overloaded with pleasure he couldn’t quite process. And when Angie pulled back the covers to ride him, he wondered if this was the most beautiful dream.

“I’m getting all the attention,” he noted, “Steli? Hop on.”

“Oh yay,” Stelios sat up to straddle Luca’s face, gripping the headboard for balance as he lowered in genitals into Luca’s mouth. “You good?”

Luca gave an attempt at a nod in reply. 

“This isn’t going to work,” Angie decided, “Steli, get off the poor man, and Luca, turn on your side.”

The two did as they were told, Angie laying in front of Luca and wrapping a leg around his thigh to shove his dick back inside her, whilst behind him, Stelios grabbed a bottle of lube from the bedside table.

“It’s sandwich time,” explained Angie, “brace yourself.”

“Oh joy,” Luca smiled at that before capturing her in a kiss, accidentally biting her lip when Stelios shoved a finger up his hole. “Oh, that’s good.”

“I try,” Stelios called before another finger went in. “You feeling okay?”

“Never been happier,” Luca sighed into Angie’s lips.

“Well, I’m going in now so prepare yourself.” Stelios brushed Luca’s hair back to trail kisses down his neck as he entered him, the two now thrusting lazily, not in any hurry and just enjoying each other’s warmth and companionship. There were no responsibilities, no outer world to judge, just this bed and their hot bodies pressed up against each other.

Luca snuggled into Stelios as he played with Angie’s hair, coming all too soon, Stelios following, then Angie after her boyfriends gave her their full attention, before the three collapsed together in one exhausted pile, snuggled up close together, in love and happier than they’d ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lux waiting up was basically a summary of my adult life


	49. OzNZ - Outdoors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hutt and Wy are just mentioned btw. In a tent, rather than just out in the open, because they have to maintain some decorum, especially after the last OzNZ entry amirite?

They’d have to be terribly quiet, lest they wanted to scar their kids anymore than they’d already done.

But Oscar and Charlie were more than likely fast asleep in their little tent, after a long day walking along the beach and swimming in the sea. Not to mention, a long day draining their guardians’ wallets on anything that took their fancy, from buckets and lilos to little tacky souvenirs to squeeze into their car on the way home. And food. Lots of it. At least now they were tucked away they wouldn’t find something else to buy, unless Oscar was on his phone internet shopping for clothes. Again.

Even Logan was ready to drop, but not until after he’d fucked his other half until they would not be able to crawl out of this tent because he was just that much of a stud.

At least, that was what Hunapo was whispering in his ear, breath tickling his cheek and neck and making him blush right up to his ears. After all these years, they knew exactly what to say to each other to get the other all riled up, so he responded in kind, careful to keep his voice low.

“Oh you’d fucking love that you cumslut,” he growled back, “there’s no way you’re leaving this tent tomorrow because I’m gonna pound you into the mattress.” Though not too hard, because it was an air mattress and they needed it not-punctured to actually sleep on it for the rest of the week.

“Do me already,” they hissed, “Logan, please, I need-”

They were getting a little carried away, and Logan covered their mouth to stop them talking. If the others woke up, neither would be able to explain this away. Wrestling? Yeah, Oscar wasn’t stupid, but he  _was_  scarred easily.

Hunapo’s muffled protests were just as loud, as much as their creased eyebrows were utterly adorable.

“Just shut up,” he whispered, removing his hand.

“Fuck me until I can’t speak then.” Hunapo would turn this back round to dirty talk. It was a talent of theirs, he supposed.

“Oh I will,” he murmured in their ear, “so hard your thighs will tremble and your proctologist will think you were in a gangbang.”

Hunapo’s brows creased at that, and they stared at Logan in utter confusion. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”


	50. HuttMol - Your Own Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Space latex time. Even though I don’t actually have a latex kink, I swear. I just think the outfits are cool, especially the sci-fi cyberpunk stuff. I can’t believe this is the first ficlit I’ve written for my Cyberpunk au. I will write stuff for this au with meaning I promise.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW, body horror, latex

He supposed it came with the feeling of being safe for once. For now. Coupled with being two newly in love, highly stressed young adults, who were incredibly curious regarding everything they’d yet to experience in the universe, but they  _were_  keen to explore everything.

And everything included each other.

They were alone for once.

Their bunker was deserted completely, none of the other rebels crowded in hiding, all out spying or crafting new weapons elsewhere in the slum levels, safe from the prying eyes and guns of the Jones Corp. workers and soldiers. No one in their right mind ventured down here, unless they had something to hide or a death wish, or both.

Oscar was lying on his bed, dull eyes staring blankly at his IV, poking out of the cannula just below his elbow. Mike knew he couldn’t eat solid food, but he didn’t know why and was too scared to ask what was under that gas mask of his, until now.

He’d seen what New Horizon’s experiments had done to other children, and could very well guess the state poor Oscar’s lower face was in, but he supposed he was about to find out.

“You understand I cannot talk without my mask, right?” Oscar muttered, metal bouncing up and down with each word.  

“I wanna see all of you,” replied Mike firmly, “I don’t care what you look like, bro.”

Mike sat in the bunk next to him, boots dangling over the edge as he fiddled with his overcoat. They’d been talking about this for weeks now, planning, reassuring each other, waiting for some damn time to themselves.

Oscar didn’t look convinced though, and Mike could understand. If he’d spent his entire life being deformed and torn apart by scientists, he’d be afraid to show his body to anyone too. It had taken ages for Oscar to even be comfortable letting Mike watch him feed, due to the numerous scars littering his chest and back, from ‘disciplinary actions’ and electric cables stuck to his body.

Now he was free from such horrors, but the boy still jumped over every little touch and noise.

“I love you, Oscar,” he tried again, knowing full well how stupid it sounded coming from a teen, especially one on the verge of having sex. Man he probably sounded like a douche, on second thought.

“Look,” Oscar’s voice was thin and fragile, and he stared at the needle in his arms purely to avoid eye-contact with his boyfriend, “I don’t doubt that for a second, and I don’t doubt that you will try your best not to care about my face, but… I am horribly ugly.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“You understand I will want to speak during a large part of this, though?”

“Oh no, really, I get it,” Mike waved a hand. “I just want a look, and a kiss, then you can put it back on and we’ll get down to… business.”

He could tell Oscar was smiling at that; his cheeks bunched up around his eyes.

In the dim, flickering light of neon filtering in through the one tiny window in the room, Oscar looked unearthly, like the mysterious alien Mike had mistaken him for the first time they met. The blue LEDs around the filter cartridges obscured the face behind them in shadow, save for that one electric green eye, another reminder of his time in the lab, flashing with lines of code and every so often spilling a neon acid tear.

“Are you ready?” he asked, glancing down at red, rough fingers poking out of his gloves. This line of work was harsh and took a lot out of him, stuff he didn’t even know he had to begin with. Mike didn’t get into trouble before this, and he was far more at home tucked up in bed reading or gazing at the stars.

He pushed down the homesick pang, reminding himself that he was better off down here, with people he could trust, who needed him. He couldn’t go home so what was the point in crying over it?

“I am, just let me take the needle out.” Mike looked away as Oscar fiddled with his IV, trying not to also think of what would happen if he ran out of food. No matter how sparing he was, it would happen one day, right? Could he steal more? He would if he needed to, for Oscar.

“So…”

Mike looked up to find Oscar staring at him in anticipation. In order to free up his arm, he’d peeled off his jumpsuit down to his waist already, the latex pooled on his lap with the now-switched off tubes of wires, evil things that would never be used against him again.

Mike supposed Oscar needed new clothes, but Tino and Berwald simply didn’t have the money to spare on such luxuries, and Mike hadn’t brought all that much money with him when he ran off with ‘Subject 55′, just a few treasured possessions that were now being used a brighten up his little bunk: some childhood drawings of rockets and stars and himself as a space cowboy;  ornaments and precious rocks, and his beloved d-AI-sy, who- thankfully- was elsewhere, and not about to have her little robot brain tainted.

“So, shall we not waste anymore time?” continued Oscar, “I mean, we won’t be alone forever.”

“Right,” Mike stood up on shaky legs, removing his jacket as he drew closer. He wanted this, make no mistake, but man were his nerves getting to him. “Um, forgive me, you know, if I’m a bit, erm, inexperienced.”

“Likewise.” As Mike moved onto the bed, Oscar stared up at him with trepid eyes, propped up on his elbows. His face crumpled into a laugh. “Although, I fear you will become too tired after trying to undress me. This outfit tends to stick to my skin.”

“We’ll get to that later,” Mike scoffed with a have of the hand, now straddling his boyfriend. “First, your mask. How do I get it off?”

“I’ll do that,” Oscar propped himself up on his pillow as his fingers fiddled with the clasps of his mask. “It stings to take it off, so I’ll only be doing this once.”

“Oh,” Mike winced as he pulled the mask away, and tried his utmost to not gasp in horror at the sight underneath.

Oscar didn’t have a lower jaw. He didn’t have a tongue or chin or lips, and most harrowing of all was the fact that it didn’t look surgically removed. Something or someone had torn his mouth off.

Oscar’s mask was still attached to him, in a way, with wires digging into the skin around his mouth, red and sore.

“What happened?” he asked before he could stop himself, “unless, you know, you don’t want to talk-”

Oscar gave him a stony look. Oh, right. He  _couldn’t_  talk.

“I guess this makes kissing you a little hard,” he tried to joke, before leaning forward to plant the tiniest of pecks on his front teeth. “I gotta try though,” he added, before planting another on what was left of his lips.

Oscar shooed him away at that, reattaching his mask and Mike flinched at the hiss the machine made as it snapped into place.

“It tickled,” he admitted, “and to answer your question, they locked me in a room with this new robot servant prototype thing, to see if it was safe to be left alone around humans without going bezerk.”

“And it wasn’t?” Mike winced.

“Tore my face right off.” Oscar gace a shrug. “But the robot was dismantled so who’s the real winner here?”

“Well, your face  _is_  infected…”

“Oh that’s what that pain is,” Oscar gave a shrug, “I thought the edges were digging in too much or something.”

“How can you even live like this?” Mike couldn’t do it. He’d have gone mad with the pain by now.

“I’ve been like this since I was ten,” Oscar replied, like it was obvious, “and they never performed any deadly experiments on me since. Well, apart from…”

Yeah. Oscar was a day away from death when Mike broke him out.

“Didn’t want me taking all their resources, I guess. I was no use alive.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” muttered Mike.

“Oh I know. Any more questions?”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, how the hell do you talk?”

“You didn’t look at the inside of the mask?” Oscar asked, smiling at that.

“Dude, you have no fucking face why would I be looking at your mask?”

“It has a fake tongue and jaw,” explained Oscar, “it’s attached to my nervous system so I can move them about.”

“Fake tongue?” Mike flushed at that.

“You naughty boy!” Oscar- ever so lightly- punched his upper arm, half-heartedly pushing him away. “So are we doing this?”

“Time to get all that fucking latex off!” Better said than done, it appeared, and Mike would’ve hated having to peel the entire jumpsuit off, given that it was bad enough working on the lower body. The stupid tubes getting in the way didn’t help much either.

His boots came off easy enough, but that stupid jumpsuit seemed determined to stay put, and the more Oscar tried to pull it off, the more his legs began to sweat, making things just that bit harder. And not to mention, when the waist and crotch areas were free, Mike had to fight against being distracted by Oscar’s chode flipping and flopping about. New Horizons were a multi-million company, and they couldn’t afford underwear for its test subjects?

But eventually that stupid jumpsuit was thrown to the floor and Oscar lay stark-naked before him, well, save for the gas mask.

“You’re beautiful,” Mike muttered dreamily.

“You’re just saying that because I’m about to have sex with you,” replied Oscar jokingly, “speaking of which, its not fair that you’re still clothed. Come here.”

Taking off a shirt and trousers was a far easier task for Oscar, thankfully, because the boy already looked ready to pass out from exhaustion. Whatever he was feeding himself, it clearly wasn’t nutritious.

“And I love you,” he added bashfully, burying his face in his naked shoulder.

“Love you too,” Oscar replied, leaning forward to kiss his chest, but only succeeding in making Mike jump at the touch of cool metal.

“Let me,” he kissed Oscar’s neck, fumbling with one hand for the half-empty bottle of lube Oscar didn’t need to know he’d salvaged from the rubbish pit earlier in the week. They were both starting to get hard again, now there was nowhere else for the blood flow to go, and Mike knew they needed to get on with things now.

He probably should’ve told Oscar he was about to put a finger in though.

Oscar yelped at the sensation, Mike quickly apologising before getting to work.

“This feels so weird,” commented Oscar.

“Well how did you expect a finger up the ass to feel?” asked Mike, adding another.

“I don’t know; I’ve never done this before.”

“Even to yourself?”

“Could you if you were constantly under surveillance?”

“I would, just to fuck with them,” joked Mike. He probably would though. Even if they killed him for it, he could go out with a bang.

“Well could you fuck with me instead?” asked Oscar, and in response, Mike added another finger.

“This good enough?”

“Sure. Think I’m ready yet?”

Mike pulled a face. “Doubt it. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

But when he was finally certain Oscar was ready, it still hurt. But the boy still insisted they carry on, and it did seem to get better with time, or the pleasure was outweighing anything else- it certainly was for Mike.

He’d not been expecting this to be this perfect, incredible moment where they both knew entirely what they were doing- it would take a few times to really understand each other this way- but holy fuck did it still feel good. Mike hadn’t known anything like it.

Oscar had to keep reassuring him that everything was fine though, that no he didn’t want to stop, and no he wasn’t in pain. He certainly didn’t look in pain when he came though, Mike following seconds after. What the holy fuck was this feeling? It was incredible, and Mike thought he was falling off a cliff whilst every knot in his body unwound. 

When he collapsed on top of the other, Oscar just ruffled his hair sleepily.

“Yeah…” he sighed.


	51. LuxSey - Shower Sex

Compromise was not something Luca thought he would ever have to accommodate into his world, but life wasn’t about to put up with such a philosophy.

Anyway, it was his fault. Well, not really, but it had been him that started this.

Right, the start. A Caribbean holiday. A hotel room right in the ocean, raised above sea level on wooden stakes. An island that might have been deserted. How could one’s life get anymore perfect?

Well, for one thing, he was with the most beautiful girl he’d ever known. The funniest, with the brightest smile. A graceful dancer, Angelique Lalande, full of life and song. She loved him, and she loved the sea. How could this have not been a more perfect moment to combine those two loves on the holiday of a lifetime?

When she suggested they made love in the ocean under the moonlight, Luca had been happy to go along with it. Sure, it wasn’t something he’d have suggested- given that he couldn’t swim- but the water was shallow and the weather perfect, so why not? Plus, it would’ve made Angie the happiest woman in the world.

They’d laughed as they stripped in the evening light, tickling each other playfully before he pushed Angie into the sea, tentatively following down the ladder as she splashed him. Yeah, Luca might’ve squealed as the water hit his bare back [and other places], but that wasn’t his biggest embarrassment of the night.

Things had started out well. Very well.

They’d embraced, shared a tender kiss under the moonlight, exchanged words of love and forever. The sea sang them a sweet lullaby, and Angie joined in with her beautiful voice. She could’ve been a siren about to drag him under, but at that point, Luca wouldn’t have minded at all.

They kissed, they caressed, they made love. Pure, sweet, tender. Things were perfect. Angie was in his arms, wrapped around him, in his ear and mind and soul as she buried her face in his shoulder.

But then something brushed against his foot, he screamed, dropped her, climbed back into their hut, and not gone near the water for the rest of the holiday.

Luckily, once Angie had gotten over the initial shock of being thrown in the ocean and left for possible dead, she actually found the whole thing funny. She also didn’t make him go in the ocean again.

But when they got home she did ask if they could do it in the shower at some point, as a compromise.

That didn’t sound so bad, Luca supposed. He had a fairly large, spacious shower, so things wouldn’t get painfully cramped, and all in all it would feel like warm, pleasant rain. 

“You’ve never looked more beautiful,” Luca muttered as Angie removed her dressing gown, throwing the thing to the floor and waggling her hips. Her hair was loose, trailing down her back and jiggling as she laughed loudly, presumably about what they were about to do.

“Why thank you,” she chirped, “you look beautiful too.”

Luca supposed he did, leaning naked against the shower door with his hair falling perfectly in place. Angie would probably mess it right up playing with it, and he didn’t really care. Admittedly, he’d prefer her to play with his pubic hair.

“So…” as seductively as he could, he slipped into the shower and turned it on, only to get sprayed in the face with freezing water. Not for the first time, he let out the most effeminate shriek in front of his girlfriend whilst naked and wet.

“Are you okay?” Angie asked once he leapt back out.

“Yeah, just… cold nipples.” Why on earth did he say that? With a sliver of self-loathing, he slunk back in to adjust the water temperature. Within a few seconds, the water was blissfully lukewarm on his face, and he slicked his hair back with his hands, reaching for the shampoo before he was reminded that he wasn’t actually having a shower by Angie’s hands on his nipples.

“They must’ve been really cold,” she commented as she rubbed and squeezed them, leading him to give a strangled moan as he turned to face her.

“I’m warmer now,” he told her. Really? Why was he allowed to speak at times like these? 

“Oh? How warm?” Well, at least he wasn’t alone in being godawful at dirty talk.

“Maybe we should just get on with it.” Before Angie could reply, Luca captured her lips in a kiss, lifting her up and against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist. Angie squealed at the freezing tiles on her back, and with laughter.

Luca kissed her nose as he rubbed his dick against her, entering slowly and carefully.

Apparently that wasn’t what she was after tonight.

“Honey,” she began, “do you think you can be a bit rough tonight? I’d- I’d really like it.” Angie trailed her fingers across Luca’s neck, knowing just how damn sensitive he was there.

“I could try,” was all Luca could promise her. He was a gentle soul, and couldn’t really  _do_  rough. He was more of a taking things slow and being ultra romantic, rather than… what if he was too rough? It seemed impossible, but what if he accidentally killed her? How does one even explain that to the police?

He picked up his pace, tightening his grip and trying to look like he had some idea of what he was doing. Angie seemed to be enjoying it though, tugging at his hair and whispering into his neck. Her voice tickled. It sent sparks through his body. She was telling him to go faster, that he was a good boy, to pull her hair and scratch her back.

Luca did all those things with grace and passion, kissing her roughly whilst she ran her hands over his face. This was absolutely perfect.

Until he slipped and the pair of them went crashing to the floor.


	52. SebWy - On a Desk

Ah, the wonders one could achieve when motivated by pure spite.

Salvatorio had never experienced such a thing before in his life. Charlie had. As a child, she lived to mess with her brothers, parents and close friends and relatives. He hadn’t. He was a nice human being.

Sal, however, was one for grand romantic gestures, no matter how stupid or reckless. And this seemed pretty romantic, in a weird, loose, and downright reckless sense of the world. Besides, he believed he’d not truly deserved this detention. 

Charlie, on the other hand…

He couldn’t hand in some homework because he’d left it at home. Who cared? When he was rich and famous, would it matter that he’d not handed it in on time? 

Charlie had sworn in lesson and farted in her friend Peter’s face. This was her third detention this week. Her brothers were being bombarded with concerned letters from the head of sixth form.

Despite the injustice he felt, it had been her idea to consummate their relationship on the desk she was stuck writing assignments on whilst the teacher popped out. Of course, when students got to this age, they could usually be trusted to be left to their detentions for most of the hour.

So Charlie was going to have sex during her detention, to spite the teacher who put her here.

And Sal was going to help her.

Sal, of course, was perfectly happy to go along with this. And he did.

He’d done this before; he didn’t know if she had, and didn’t really care. Charlie wasn’t interested in talking: it distracted from her looking out for the teachers. As much as they both thought this was a great idea, they knew they’d be expelled if they were caught; it was just something for them to share and know together, revell in no one else knowing, not any staff or Charlie’s tall, strong brothers. Or Sal’s Grandpa, because he’d insist on meeting her and going on about marriage and that would just scare Charlie. And humiliate Sal.

It was fun with Charlie though, because she had a sense of humour on her, and was a bit rough around the edges. He’d never done rough before so this was new.. and exciting.

Charlie was soft, and smelt like berry shower gel and acrylic paints. Her hair was so messy it got tangled in his fingers, but she just laughed.

Maybe he was a little in love with her.

But, unfortunately, luck was not on their side. And halfway through, when they were up to their necks in tension and overwhelming pleasure, the door rattled and their teacher walked in, only not screaming because she was too stunned to speak.

Well, he never liked this college anyway.


	53. TurkInd - Trying New Position

And just where the hell had Sadik found that? And just why was he grinning so stupidly?

Oh right, because he thought he was about to get on some new levels of freaky with his boyfriend. Man Sadik was lucky Arjun had a sense of humour, or he might’ve been a little offended.

“You know only a tiny section of the Kama Sutra is sex positions?” he asked.

“Oh I know; read the whole thing,” Sadik thumbed the book for good measure, “it was actually a really interesting read.”

“I’m sure,” Arjun shook his head. Maybe if he kept moving, his boyfriend couldn’t see how he was trying not to laugh. 

The pair of them were slouched on Arjun’s big comfy sofa, watching soaps whilst cuddled up to cushions and each other. Perfectly happy. What Arjun hadn’t been expecting was for Sadik to drop this bombshell on him during the ad break.

“I think ‘the spider’ looks pretty interesting,” commented Sadik, “what do you think?” He gave a hopeful smile at that.

“I say no.”

“Really?” And there they were: the puppy dog eyes. Why this? “I thought it would be something fun to do together.”

“Honestly?” Sadik nodded. “Ugh, fine.”

“Oh yes!”


	54. TurkLiech - Shy

She was absolutely red by now, and all he’d done was kiss her.

Elise looked so beautiful in her nightdress, bought specially for this evening, this moment: fashioned from chiffon and lace, layered with a bow across the chest. She lay sprawled under him, almost sinking into the puffy quilt of the bed, laughing though she’d covered her face in embarrassment.

“Hey come on,” he murmured in her bright red ear, “let me see that beautiful face of yours.”

“No,” she squealed playfully, “oh I gosh I can’t believe we’re doing this!”

Neither could Sadik, really. He’d only started dating Lady Elise Biedermann to spite her cousin Roderich, but never actually slept with her when pretending to go out with her, partly because he didn’t have anything against Elise and didn’t want to hurt her completely to get to Roderich, and partly because, the longer he spent in her company, the more he found himself falling for her, for real. Elise was quite something else.

Not to mention, she was incredibly shy about scenarios such as this. In fact, anything above holding hands did it for her, really.

But fake-dating had turned into the real thing- on his part, at last- and although he’d not wanted to screw things up and tell her the truth, his feelings were completely genuine, and in all honesty he’d been shy about this too. Mostly out of guilt. He loved her so much, and there was that little nagging feeling in his head that reminded him of why he’d asked her out in the first place.

Maybe he should’ve mentioned it  _before_  things had gotten this far.

But on the plus side, Roderich was thoroughly cheesed off about their relationship. He’d probably have a seizure if he could see them now.

“Hey, relax,” he soothed, “this isn’t some fancy exam; it’s supposed to be fun for the both of us. Don’t worry so much.”

Elise didn’t remove her hands from her face. “It won’t hurt, will it?”

“Not if you relax.” He removed her hands to kiss her forehead. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

_He should tell her._

Sadik had been more than ready to throw her under the bus to get back at his arch enemy. He hadn’t cared when he first met Elise. She had the same blood as Roderich, after all.

But now?

“I know,” whispered Elise, “I trust you completely.” She punctuated her sentence with a warm smile that tore at Sadik’s heartstrings. No, he couldn’t do it. 

He had to tell her.

“Elise…” he began, voice low as he pulled away, “there’s something you should know…”


	55. TurkFinSu - Bukkake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: old people discover the world of internet porn. Alternate alternate title: there needs to be a maximum age of consent. I am so sorry for what you are about to read.

The three of them were certain their respective children would regret ever introducing them to the internet if they found out about this, and all three were perfectly aware that they were several decades older than the nice young people in the videos they’d been watching as a reference, but this seemed like a really fun way to spend the evening.

It had been Tino who mentioned it one coffee morning, recommending the other two give the genre a watch. And they did. Bukkake looked really fun to the three middle-aged single dads who were sometimes friends with benefits, so they all planned to meet up at some point and give it a go. Because, really, what else was there to do in a day when you were retired and all your children had left home?

Berwald had decided to be the… recipient? Was that it? But it seemed less embarrassing to kneel on the bed whilst the others did the work, because of the three he was by far the most self-conscious, even if the other two had noted how he was the only one to keep his figure after all this time. Yes, this was easy. Well, trying not to touch himself was becoming something of a struggle, but he managed to get a few tugs in when the others weren’t looking.

Tino and Sadik were already naked, besides Tino’s white socks that he insisted on keeping on. Berwald didn’t mind. Berwald thought Tino was perfect in every way possible.  
  


“Hey, call me baklava cause I’m brimming with nut,” boomed Sadik as he pumped his piss weasel.

Berwald liked Sadik too, even if he tended to say the worst thing possible in any given situation. 

“Ber, you might want to get… eye level. You’re dreadfully tall.” Tino gave an apologetic smile at that, and Berwald nodded as he sank lower, slightly nervous now that he was face to crotch with the other two. Not that he could see anything clearly without his glasses. **  
**

“Maybe we should’ve had the shortest get the facial,” Sadik commented.

Tino shrugged. “Could’ve been easier. But I really want to see Ber get Simba’d now.”

“S’mba?”

“Yeah, you know,” Tino fiddled with his penis, collecting drops of precum on his thumb and smearing them right across Berwald’s forehead. “Sim-baaaaa…”

“Tino… why are you like the way that you are?” sighed Sadik, and Berwald- silently- agreed.

“Look, are you ready yet?” Tino asked, rolling his eyes.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sadik nearly lost his boner from laughing so hard.

“Oh bloody hell,” cried Tino.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready. Ber, prepare for the milking of a lifetime.”

Before Berwald could reply to request Sadik never say that again, his face was assaulted with two lashings of fresh jizz, or more specifically, his poor eyes. It never occurred to him to actually close them first.

He was going to die, Berwald was certain of it.

Or, at the very least, he would go blind if the absolute agony seeping in his eye sockets was anything to go by. Even the tears streaming down his face weren’t getting rid of it in the slightest, and oh boy he was not going to the hospital and explaining this. He’d rather go blind.

All he could do was let out a whine, but his partners had already sussed out what had happened.

“Oh fuck,” cried Tino, taking hold of his head to get a closer look, “are you okay?”

Berwald gave a grunt that conveyed he very much wasn’t.

“We have to get him to hospital,” exclaimed Sadik in a panic, “quick, get dressed. I’ll drive.”

Berwald decided then and there that he was never trying bukakke again.


	56. MonaCy - Uniforms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched too much OFAH as a kid and it’s messed me up in terms of kinks. And uniforms. I’m saying too much, aren’t I?

Stelios was dead. He’d died and - by some miraculous stroke of luck - gone to heaven. He had to be. He was long gone. Worm food. Had willingly jumped off the mortal coil and straight into bed. **  
**

There could be no other explanation as to why the most beautiful human being he knew was currently in his bedroom, willingly about to have sex with him because she liked him. Not only right there before him, but wearing a slutty nurse’s uniform too. His favourite kind of uniform.

He wasn’t about to rule out a cruel prank as the reason she was doing this. But even that would be worth the sight before him. Wow, he was a simple little idiot.

Monique was smiling at him, laughter on the tip of her tongue, skirt bunching up around her waist, white boots up to her knees. Her grin was mischievous, infectious, even.

Ah he reached out to stroke Monique’s hair, trailing down her back and free from it’s braid- he felt light-headed. Strange, his heart was beating so fast.

“You’re so bea-” That was all he could get out before fainting.


	57. OzNZ - Rough

They never made it to the bedroom, let alone their actual bed. **  
**

Then again last time they’d actually tried getting down to business in their bed, Logan had torn the headboard off from rattling it too much. That had certainly been a harrowing trip to ikea in the middle of the night, and their old headboard had long been abandoned in a landfill site and left to rot.

And the time before that, a spring had come loose and caught Hunapo right in the left arse cheek. They still had the scar.

The poor bastard working in ikea, always there when they visited in the middle of the night- drained of all caffeine highs and just desperate to close shop- must be getting really suspicious over their incomplete bed purchases.

But there would be no emergency trips today, as they were doing the deed right in the middle of the kitchen floor. And who cared if a few tiles were cracked?

Well, Huna’s stomach was a bit cold, and the hard floor was digging into their chin, but there was nothing painfully poking into their arse. Besides Logan’s schlong, which was wonderfully painful indeed because he was going at it like he’d be shot if he slowed down.

Hunapo moaned into their bitten bottom lip as Logan ran his nails down their back yet again, deep, drawn out, coming to join the bite marks on their arse from five minutes ago, the same ones littering their thighs. Just the way Hunapo liked it.

Maybe if they weren’t pinned down, they could retaliate, matching Logan’s strength and rough actions like they usually did, but for now they were happy to lay forward and enjoy the ride. It made a nice change, not working to give Logan the biggest fear-boner. Just a regular one. Pretty easy.

It was nice to relax once in a while.


	58. HuttMol - Roleplaying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, they can’t do a normal roleplay. If you couldn’t tell by now, this fills are personally tailored to allow these ships to be as weird as their hearts desire. Plus it’s more fun this way.

The cornfield towered over him. He couldn’t escape its skyscraper wall of stalk and leaf, no matter how fast he ran, no matter which direction he darted in. But he had to get out of here before he was caught by that damned farmer and his pitchfork.

The world around him was pitch black, the noises of bugs and small animals spooked him all the more as he ran blindly, but it did no good. Where was the exit? Was he about to die out here?

“There you are!” spat a gruff voice right in front of him, and Oscar came face to face with the pointy prongs of a pitchfork, and a rather livid looking farmer.

“Farmer Jones,” he squeaked, “please, I was just-”

“On my land,” Farmer Jones finished for him, “trespassing.”

“Well, yes, but- but I-”

“You’ve gone and wandered through my crops,” the golden eyes of the farmer bored into him, “stamped on the poor bastards! You know how much money you’ve gone and lost me?”

Okay, wow. Mike could do a good farmer accent, low and rough with a nice tang to it.

“Surely there must be some way I can make it up to you,” he purred, twirling a strand of hair on his finger and biting his lip in a way he knew the other loved.

Mike gulped. “I- I think, um-”

“Don’t break character,” hissed Oscar teasingly.

They’d already been through the normal roleplays, weeding out the ones that didn’t sound appealing and acting out the ones that did, and now apparently it was time for the ‘farmer and trespasser’, which probably wasn’t a thing but they both lived on farms, so it made sense to make the most of what they had.

“Right, um,” Mike seemed really embarrassed to get these next lines out, something Oscar should’ve expected; he’d blushed and giggled all through planning this. It was stupid though, like something you’d read in poorly written fanfiction. “Well,” he tried again, “you got money?”

“None. I am but a poor farm boy.” Not entirely part of the script, but people never believed Oscar could make it as an actor, so he loved to ham it up when he could and prove them wrong.

“Well then,” even in the middle of the night, Mike’s blush could be visible from space. “I- I su- suppose… you could- um, well- puh-puh-pay with your… oh fuck don’t make me say it.”

“Say it you hot piece of arse.”

“Your… your body,” his voice was little more than a wail at this point. He looked dead inside.

“You bastard!” Oscar cried in indignation, hand on his chest, “what kind of boy do you think I am?”

“I’ll call the police,” Mike warned. 

“Oh you evil, evil man,” Oscar fell back against the corn, “how could you even suggest-”

“You know,” suggested Farmer Jones, “if you actually looked like you meant it, I might take it back, but Goddamn I can see in your eyes you want it.”

“You having a go at my acting?” hissed Oscar.

“Just strip already,” Mike hissed back.

“Make me.” Oscar grinned at that; the one line guaranteed to get him all riled up.

“Oh you’ve done and said it now!” Mike pushed him back and he fell to the ground with a thud. A little rough, but he supposed it was part of the scene. Mike began tearing at his shirt, an old thing he didn’t mind getting ripped and dirty- good thing too, because Mike took half the buttons off in one go. Maybe he thought it would annoy him or something.

“I’ll make you regret ever stepping on my property, young man.” Oscar decided not to mention that he was the older of the two. That would be breaking character.

“Please go easy on me,” he half-begged, hoping Mike would know he didn’t mean it.

“No way,” he growled right in Oscar’s neck, “you’re mine now.”

“I’ll never be yours!” It was too easy to go over the top here, as Mike ignored him to work on his jeans, pulling a condom and bottle of lube out of his own jeans pocket.

“What sort of farmer carries that around with him out in the fields?” Oscar scoffed, “are you a pervert or something?”

“Shut up, Cooper,” Mike whined, struggling to pull down two pairs of trousers at the same time. “Just lie back.”

And so, whilst Mike was touching him in places he normally didn’t approve of being touched in, Oscar lay back in the cool dirt, quite a relief from the overbearing sun that had assaulted his skin all day. It was so peaceful out here, away from family that could be listening to them, and Mike’s weird dog that kept trying to watch and bark at Oscar every time Mike made a noise- he wasn’t getting hurt damn! Stupid animal.

Just as he lay his head back in the ground, he felt something brush against his outstretched hand. No, not brushing against, but crawling over. With a shriek, Oscar shot up, colliding with Mike’s forehead.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Mike moaned, clutching his head.

“Bug on my hand! Bug on my hand!” cried Oscar, waving his arms though the thing was long gone, “oh fuck! Wheat biscuit! Wheat biscuit!” Why did they pick this as a safeword again? Right, because it was so silly it’d kill the mood.

“Oh come on you big baby,” Mike laughed, “it’s just a little nature.”

“Well perhaps there’d be a little less nature in the barn,” Oscar tried, “you know, where we could continue in private…”


	59. AusHun - With Food

“And just what do you think you’re doing with that?”

Roderich paused, lying flat on his stomach on the comfiest bed in the house- their kingsize one lying slap bang in the middle of the master bedroom- in nothing but a frilled shirt and his corset, propped up on his elbows and holding a tiny dessert fork. An interesting position for one to find themselves in indeed, especially when the fork was trained on their wife.

Érzsebét, on the other hand, wore only a pair of knickers as she leaned back on the mountain of pillows and cushions propped against the headboard, and nothing else. Luckily she’d thought to bring a can of whipped cream and fresh strawberries to cover the rest of her, and was currently squirting a fresh layer of cream onto her neck. Roderich detested the stuff, but it was the best to use in the bedroom, he supposed.

He couldn’t tell if the fact that her knickers said ‘all you can eat’ was a wonderful pun or simply unnecessary here, but it was painfully tacky and not to mention, he wasn’t one for puns.

Or eating with his hands. What was he? A baboon?

“I am having dessert, as you put it so eloquently yourself,” he replied, voice low and calm. But mercy was he excited. Érzsebét? And food? Those were two of his favourite things on this earth, besides music. Well, the gramophone was in the corner, playing along quietly, so it was really all three of his favourites.

“A fork? Really?” Érzsebét raised an eyebrow.

“Well…” Roderich bristled in indignation, “I am hardly going to use my hands, now am I?”

Érzsebét chuckled, seemingly innocent before leaning forward to grab him by the collar, wrestling the fork from his hand and throwing it across the room. “Then lick it off me like the animal you are,” she whispered right in his ear. “I know you’ve got it in you.”

“You’ve gotten cream on my waistcoat,” Roderich pointed out, “and I don’t think… oh forget it.” And so he closed the gap between them by giving Érzsebét a kiss so rough it could probably beat him up, before moving down to lick her neck. He guessed asking if he was doing this correctly every five seconds would annoy her, so he just focused on the cream covering her neck, licking in long, fluid strokes before moving to her chest.

“You have a lot to get through,” Érzsebét noted, “I hope you have the stamina for it.”

“I doubt that,” Roderich admitted, “but I’ll give it my all.”


	60. RoBul - Sexual Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe this is over too, not that I’m not utterly relieved. Wow I can’t wait to draw again, and work on my longer fics at long last. This was fun, actually. I really… learnt… things. Things that will stay with me for the rest of my life, to say the least.
> 
> Surprisingly, this is my only RoBul, sorry. But boy is it a spectacular show to finish the challenge.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW, real fucked up shit.

Tsvetan wasn’t sure which of them was the weirder one at this point, Alin for having all these stupid ideas and fantasies, or himself for being all too eager to comply.

Well, no one else would be able to keep up with these requests that Alin wanted carrying out on a weekly basis, sometimes more frequent and at times Tsvetan wasn’t sure if he could keep up either. But it was all good fun. Tiring, but fun.

Alin couldn’t have sex like a normal person, oh no. He needed weird. He needed kinky. He- okay at this point it was pure perversion. The funny thing was, he still loved the romantic side of things. Alin wanted rose petals and candles and lingerie. Except the lingerie was on the rope-y and leather-y side. And the candles were illuminating a cramped spare bedroom decorated to look like a dungeon. And the rose petals were covering a torture bench.

Yeah, Alin had issues and Tsvetan probably did too. Not that he was too fussed about the whole thing and just wanted Alin to be happy.

And if happiness to him meant being covered in scalding candle wax whilst receiving electric shocks to the nipples via crocodile clips, then who was he to deny him?

“Are you doing okay?” he asked, glancing down at his boyfriend in mild concern as he continued to hold the candle over his bare chest. He was tied- by all five limbs- to a rickety old table, his ‘torturer’s rack’, stark naked and covered in bondage ropes. He always needed the ropes. 

If Tsvetan had had his way, this room would be an office. But no, Alin wanted a sexual torture dungeon. Except their flat didn’t have a dungeon so the spare room would have to do, and it was a good place to keep all their Halloween decorations outside of October. The room had to be kept locked at all times though, lest friends or family accidentally found it. Man, that would be humiliating to explain. Plus it would scar Alin’s kid brother more so than the boy already was.

“I’m fine,” Alin insisted, “just get on with this.”

So Tsvetan turned up the voltage of the power box ever so slightly, and gave the rack on the table another turn. “Is there anything else you’d like to try tonight?”

Alin bit his lip. “As a matter of fact, yes there is.”

“Yes?” Tsvetan asked apprehensively, drawing out the word. 

Sweating under the pressure of the light electric shocks, Alin turned away slightly. “In one of the drawers… there’s a, um… I put barbed wire on a dildo and want you to shove it up there real good. Until I pass out from blood loss and orgasm.”

“ _Are you freaking kidding me_?” Tsvetan was so damn close to using the safe word at this point. There was no way in hell he was getting barbed wire involved in all this too! Maybe this was the point where he insisted Alin see a therapist, though that point had probably long passed, particularly after last month when Alin tried getting hamsters involved. Those poor creatures…

“Yeah,” Alin burst into cackling laughter, “it’s just a dildo with some plastic barbs, nothing too scary. Still gonna shove it up there?”

“Oh I will,” grumbled Tsvetan, making his way over to the bedside drawers, “I’ll stick it up there nice and good you freaking weirdo.”


End file.
